Cruel Concealment
by Josephine Martin
Summary: Complete! It's been seven years since Chosen, and Buffy has finally decided that she's cookies. But how could she be when she doesn't know that the vital ingredient is missing?
1. Default Chapter

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Disclaimer: BTVS, ATS, and all the standard characters belong to Joss Wheddon, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else to whom such ownership has been granted. Sadly, that doesn't include me. This story has no commercial purpose, and is written purely for the entertainment of like-minded fans.

Chapter 1 - The Beginning of the Rest of My Life - Part Two

I'm packing my bags. I didn't think I'd be doing this again. Well, at least not alone. It's hard. The past seven years have been hard but I thought I'd finally made it. I thought that I'd arrived at last, fully baked and ready for the rest of my life, but I was wrong. I might be ready for the rest of my life, but there's still something missing. 

Not that I can complain. A lot of what I want, I've got. I've got a job that I love. I've got a business that I've built up and that's successful. I've got friends, although perhaps not as many as I once needed. I find it difficult to get close to people who haven't been involved in saving the world. It's something I can't explain to them, and without that explanation, they just don't 'get' me. But, hey, that's not a problem. I've found that I do better with a few close friends rather than a crowd these days. And, on balance, I like the person I've become. 

So, what's the problem? That's not easy to answer, but like countless other times when I try to think seriously about what I want, what I need, his memory comes back to me. Maybe it's just my mind's way of reminding me that there was a time when I didn't have a clue what I wanted, so I've come a long way. And he was always able to tell me things about myself that I needed to know, no matter how unwelcome it was to hear them. I concentrate hard, knowing that I need to remember him.

Spike.

He was a vampire, and he loved me. Without the benefit of a soul, he loved me so much, that he changed his entire existence so that I would love him. And what did I do when faced with such an amazing love? I told him it wasn't real. I told him he couldn't love, didn't know the meaning of love. I did such a job on him that I drove him to absolute desperation. In that desperation, he did something wrong - he tried to hurt me. When I say he tried to hurt me, I know he didn't go into it with the intention of hurting me - nothing could be further from the truth. No, he wanted to show me that I loved him. Words hadn't worked - he'd used a lot of them, and I'd ignored what he was telling me. So, he used the only other alternative I'd given him. 

The only time I allowed him to be close to me was during sex. Even then, it wasn't the sort of sex that stems from love or caring, it was a desperate kind of sex that stemmed from violence, from me hitting him with everything that I had, taking out all my frustrations on him. And, while he hit back, his heart was never in it. He was so desperate for a crumb from me, that, in his desperation, he tried to initiate sex, and when I resisted, he kept pushing. Really, in comparison to the way I treated him it was almost insignificant, although the nature of it, being every woman's worst nightmare, made it worse. 

When you think about it rationally, the most amazing thing about the whole incident was that, when he realised what he was doing, he stopped. He was a vampire. I was food. It was in his nature to hurt me, to use me. But, when he knew he was hurting me, he stopped. 

And what did he do then? He went and got himself a soul. He wasn't cursed with a soul, he didn't get it by accident or on the whim of some great power. He chose to win himself a soul.

I must admit, even when I first knew, with the memory of that night in the bathroom still clear in my mind, it moved me. 

Over the months that followed him getting a soul, he showed me, over and over, how much he loved me. The difference was, that with the soul, he honestly believed that I'd never love him, that he didn't deserve to be loved.

And, of course, during those months, I gradually realised that I did love him. I won't say that I fell 'in love' with him - because, quite frankly, everything was just too crazy in my life for falling in love. And, I really don't know when it started - maybe even before the soul. But then, I mean, we had the First Evil, and a houseful of potential Slayers, and everything generally falling about our ears. Yet, despite all that, I realised that I loved him.

And, in the end, he was the one who saved us all. He gave me the strength to defeat Caleb, and he was the one with the amulet.

In those final minutes I spent with him, he knew exactly what was happening. He knew he was going to end his existence in that cave, but he did it willingly, knowing that he was going to save the world. He saw it as one last, great adventure, and in those minutes I saw the Spike I'd thought I destroyed - the Spike who put his whole being into everything he did. Strange as it is to say it of someone who was dead, he had more joy for living in him than any of the living I've ever known.

I told him. Just before the end, I told him that I loved him. He said he didn't believe me. I've always wondered whether he really didn't believe me, or whether it was his way of making sure I got out of the cave in one piece. I just hope it was the latter. I'd hate he to think he went without knowing. 

I shake my head, wiping my eyes a bit. It's a long time since I've thought about that time, a long time since I've cried about it.

So, we left Sunnydale, those of us who survived. I felt the hole in my life from the beginning. I can't count the number of times I turned around, expecting to find him there, wanting to tell him something, only to remember that he was gone.

I don't think the others realised just how much he was in my thoughts. I dreamt about his final minutes often. Sometimes, I'd manage to wrest the amulet from around his neck, and leave it there to complete its work while we both got out. Other times, I stayed with him, feeling the heat from the amulet searing both of us, turning us both to dust that would mingle for all eternity.

He was beautiful. I don't just mean he was physically beautiful, although he was certainly that. It was what was inside too. The man who survived both the demon and the Slayer, and the soul that he won so he would never hurt me again - the whole package was beautiful.

And then he was gone.

It wasn't long before the group of us who'd escaped together dispersed. The Potentials went home, for the most part. I guess most towns have their demons that need fighting. 

Willow and Kennedy went to Cleveland. The Hellmouth there doesn't seem as active as the one in Sunnydale was, but they believe they're making a difference. Will and I still chat fairly regularly, and it sounds like she's keeping her power under control.

Xander went there too, for a while, but he didn't settle. I think losing Anya like that was just too much for him. He spent a year doing the road trip he had planned for after high school – picking up work when he needed money and travelling when he didn't. When he'd had enough of that, he was in Hershey, Pennsylvania, the 'home' of the chocolate bars that I always associate with him, and that's where he stayed. Well, not Hershey as such, but Pennsylvania. He said it was far enough from Sunnydale that he didn't have to remember it all the time. He's married now, to someone called Angie, and they've got a couple of girls.

I haven't seen him in a long time. Angie doesn't know anything about Slayers or demons or Sunnydale, and he wants to keep it that way. I've hardly spoken to him since he got married, and I know Willow hasn't either. It's almost as though we're his guilty secrets.

Faith and Robin headed off into the sunset, and I haven't heard from either of them in years. I can't help but wonder if they actually stayed together.

Giles went back to London. He wanted to see if he could set up a new Council of Watchers. It seems like he's done it, too. He managed to get access to the Council's funds, and he has recruited a small number of people to continue its work. A large part of that has been trying to replace the vast amount of information that was destroyed when the Council headquarters was blown up. 

I think he was surprised at how many of the texts he prized were actually available in an electronic format. I've persuaded him to contact Wes about the rest. He has the resources of Wolfram and Hart at his disposal, and after being determined to have nothing to do with them, Giles has finally agreed to ask for help.

And, there was another other biggie that came out of Giles taking over the Council. There wasn't enough money to pay all the Slayers a salary or anything as normal as that, but Giles arranged for Faith and me to receive a 'redundancy' payment - at least that's what he called it. It wasn't a fortune, but it was enough to see both Dawn and me through college, and there's still enough to give us a bit of extra income too.

Dawn and I gave a lot of thought to where we should go, but in the end, well, we're both California girls, so we decided to stay there. We settled in San Jose, bought a condo, I got back into school, and Dawn resumed high school. When I finished, I was finally qualified to do what Robin had employed me as - I was a counsellor.

Dawn finished high school, and went to college out of state, majoring in political science. She's working now, in Washington DC, political research or something. I've never understood that sort of thing. 

So, I started working. I was still in Silicon Valley then, and I was determined to make it on my own. The idea of working for someone after my years of being the Slayer didn't sit right with me. Unfortunately, things were really slow at first. My real breakthrough came when Angel contacted me. We'd kept in touch - just occasional phone calls - so he knew what I was doing. He asked me to visit LA to help him out with a client. This woman had been severely traumatised by some events of a strictly supernatural nature, and she needed professional help, but the professionals she'd tried just wanted to lock her up and throw away the key.

That was the beginning of my real career. It wasn't long before I realised that there was a real need for someone like me in LA, someone trained in counselling, and not likely to wig at what she's told. Initially, Angel put work my way, but it wasn't long before I was picking up work independently. I even managed to feed some work his way too.

That whole Wolfram and Hart thing seems to be going well for him. The concerns he had at first about their intentions seem to have been unfounded, or at least manageable. 

Our contact with each other in those early days was limited. I didn't get involved with the 'fighting evil' gig, because LA's his town, and I was determined to leave the whole Slaying package buried in what was left of Sunnydale. Everything between us was kept on a business basis, which meant we didn't actually see a lot of each other, and he was careful that we were never alone together.

I sold the condo in San Jose, and rented an apartment in LA instead - because by that time, Dawn wanted her share of the capital to set herself up at college. Still, I kept a room for Dawn right up until she finally moved to DC.

In all the time since Sunnydale, I'd never really been close to anyone. I dated, some of them really nice guys, but when it came to taking things from casual dating to something else, I just couldn't do it. There was always a barrier between us. Whether it was real, or whether it was just a shadow of the memory of the two vampires I've loved, I'm not sure.

It seemed as if the move to LA was exactly what I'd needed. Almost as soon as I arrived, the dreams about Spike stopped. In the same way, I thought less and less about him during the day. I could remember everything, but as time went on, it just seemed vaguer, as if someone had drawn a curtain between me and my memories of him. Like now - I'm having to concentrate hard to remember the details about him. With that, I felt no need to talk about him any more. Not that I'd been a blabbermouth anyway. It was just with Dawn, and occasionally Willow, that I could talk about him. For the first time since he was gone, I felt I could go on with my life without any regrets about the past.

Then, six months ago, Angel found a way to make his soul permanent. Well, Fred and Wes did. The magic involved was pretty complex, but I only know what Wes told me. Angel never talked about it.

Wes is the only one of the Angel Investigations team I know well. I've met the others, but Wes and I had some history, and once I'd found he wasn't the same man who took over as my Watcher when Giles was fired, we got on well.

Once Angel's soul was anchored, he stopped avoiding me, and we started dating. It was strange, at first. I mean, after everything we'd been to one another, I think we both expected we could just take up where we'd left off. It was awkward. Sometimes, it seemed like he was treating me like the child I had been, expecting to make the decisions, and have me fall in line. Needless to say, I didn't, and there was some re-adjustment to do. Still, we managed it enough to try living together. I gave up my apartment and moved into his.

If I thought that would be easy, I've never been more wrong. 

It didn't take me too long to realise that I wasn't in love with him. If I was in love, I was in love with the memory of what we shared when I was sixteen. As the day to day routine of being with him became just that - routine - I realised something was missing. I actually had no idea what it was, but I just knew that things could be - should be - better than they were.

We had a long talk last night. There were tears, from both of us, but I think he realises this is for the best. I'm going to stay with Wesley for a while until I get my own place organised. Angel went out when we'd finished, claiming he had a job, some demon nest that needed clearing, and I spent a last night in his bed, alone.

It's still early, because I'm determined to be away before Angel gets back. I suspect he's just as determined not to come home until I've gone.

I've collected as much as I can fit into my little car, and I'm away. One last look at the apartment, and I'm driving through the streets where the traffic's already building up.

Wes is married now and he's happy. His wife, Gina, a teacher, is someone I counselled for a while - her family had been wiped out by vampires. She and I became pretty good friends before she married Wes, and it's good to see them together. She's expecting their first child later in the year.

I arrive, and I'm met by Gina. She's slightly taller than I am, but dark. Her family originally came from Italy, and it shows in her classic mediterranean colouring, olive skin, black hair and dark brown eyes. Her face shows her concern for me, but she doesn't ask how it went. I'm grateful, because, right now, I don't want to talk about it. I rang last night, immediately after the talk with Angel, asking if I could stay, and she surprised me by commenting that she had known it would just be a matter of time. I sometimes wonder about that woman - it's almost like she can sense things about you - and she's never asked me to sing.

She's full of apologies about the state of the room. It's obvious that she's been clearing things out of the room they plan to use as a nursery, and this is where it's all being stored.

"It's going to be my summer project," she tells me. "I want to do as much as I can during the summer break, because once I'm back at school, there won't be a lot of time until I'm too big to be much use to anyone."

There's still a hint of sadness there – well, that's hardly surprising. She was pregnant when she saw her partner and parents killed. She lost the baby, and if Angel hadn't come along right when he did, she'd have died too.

I get settled in, avoiding the hazards of too much furniture. Still, it won't be for long. I'm going to spend some time apartment-hunting as soon as I can.

When I've unpacked, I head for my office. Fortunately, I didn't have any appointments early this morning, and I'd planned on updating some of the case records I'm notoriously slow about.

Once at my desk, I immediately access my email so I can let Dawn know what's happened. Once I've done that, I quickly send off a note to any other friends who might need to know my change of address. Email's wonderful. Almost instantaneous, without the inconvenience of having to explain things like you would on the phone. And, notes to multiple addresses. Perfect.

Now to work. 


	2. Chapter 2 Dreams and Memories

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Chapter 2 - Dreams and Memories

It's been two weeks since I left Angel. It seems like longer, but no, I don't regret it. I can honestly say that I'm even more sure now that it was the right decision than I was at the time.

I've been looking at apartments, but I haven't seen anything I like yet. Wes and Gina have been great. They haven't put me under any kind of pressure - if anything Gina seems to be happier if I don't move out for a while.

I think she's enjoying having me around. Wes works long hours, and while I'm at work too, my hours are rather more predictable. We've spent a lot of evenings chatting about almost nothing. It's been great, something I didn't even realise I was missing since Dawn moved away.

Which leads me to the problem. You see, not long after I moved in with him, I suggested to Angel that we should get away for a few days. He didn't say no, but then he didn't agree either. I blanked out a week in my schedule anyway. Next week. But, there doesn't seem much point in taking the time off now.

As it happens, Gina and Wes are going away the same week. They're catching a flight to Seattle, and spending a week in a rented place in Tacoma.

I get back to find Gina in the middle of sorting out her wardrobe. Well, it looks more like she's just emptied every item of clothing she owns all over the bed and floor. She's not looking too happy when I poke my head in.

"Why did I agree to go away?" she asks me, sitting in the middle of the chaos with her head in her hands.

"Because you'll enjoy the break? Because it's time you persuaded that husband of yours to take some time off? Because you're going to have a great time?"

"Well," she admits. "That was the original plan, but there's so much I can't wear any more."

"Gina, you're hardly showing yet," I remind her. "There's got to be something!"

"Nothing right for a vacation. I've been living in sweats since school finished. I need to look sexy for this week. Next time we get the chance to go away, I'll either be huge and ugly, or we'll already have the baby."

She really looks down, so I offer to help. "Look, let me change, and I'll come in and help. You know Wes is going to love you whatever you wear, so I don't know why you're worrying."

The grateful look she gives me makes me smile. Gina is gorgeous. I know it, and I know Wes knows it. I go into my room, and pull off my suit and blouse, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt instead. When I go back, it's obvious Gina has been doing something to sort out the mess.

We spend a couple of hours going through the options, and while she can't get away with some of the skimpier things she has, particularly tops which are pulling over her already swelling breasts, she's going to look great.

Together, we return the discarded items to hangers and drawers in companionable silence. The nature of the silence changes as we get towards the end of the job, and I look up expectantly at her.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Come with us," she asks.

I'm momentarily confused, but then I realise what she's asking.

"Go on vacation with you?" I repeat, making sure I haven't misunderstood.

She nods, looking up into my face.

"I can't." I tell her. "Wes doesn't want me tagging along with you."

"He won't mind," she argues. "And, the place we've rented is more than big enough to give us privacy when we want it."

"I still can't see why you'd want me along."

"You don't know what Wes is like on vacation, do you?"

"Well, I can't say I do."

"He'll take his laptop, and he'll be doing some work every day. Since you persuaded Giles to contact him, he's been working harder than ever, and that's not going to stop just because we're away."

"Just tell him you need his attention. He can work when you get back. It's not as if the world's going to end in the next week."

She smiles at that. "Look, I love Wes. I really do. But I know what he's like. If he has to spend a week without knowing what's going on at the office, he'll be miserable. And I don't want him miserable. So, you'd be doing me a favour - and him too. If we can spend some time together, he won't feel guilty about the time he's going to spend working anyway."

She's being very persuasive and my calendar's clear for the week anyway. I can feel my resolve crumbling.

"I don't have a flight."

"I'm sure you can get one."

"Are you sure Wes won't mind?"

"Do you want me to call and ask him?"

I nod, realising that I really want to get out of LA for a while.

Ten minutes later, she hands me the phone.

"Buffy, of course you'd be welcome. Gina's right, I'll feel better if she's got someone to spend time with while I'm working. Please say you'll come."

"Ok," I answer. "I'll just need to book a flight."

"No need, I'll get my secretary to do that."

"But, I'm paying for it," I insist, "and I'll give you something towards the rental."

"Well, you can pay for the flight if you insist, but the rental's paid, and so is the car. I'll try to get the same flight, but if I can't, I'll get the closest I can."

"Thanks, Wes."

And so, I go into my own room and start to look through my clothes for what I want to take. Wes calls back within half an hour to confirm that he's managed to get a seat on the same flight they're booked on. It's on Friday evening, taking off at six-thirty from LAX, getting into Seattle just after nine. It'll be late when we get there, but then we'll have the whole week to enjoy it.

I can't help but think about how lucky I am. I've always had friends around me, from the Scoobies in my Slayer days, to Wes and Gina now.

When I think about the Wes I met back in Sunnydale, it's hard to believe he's the same man. Then, he, well, I suppose he was just a product of his upbringing and training. Now, he's a man who knows he's good at what he does, and he knows that what he's doing is important. Oh yes, and he's totally besotted with Gina, and surprisingly nervous about the prospect of being a dad.

In the two weeks I've been here, I've had a chance to find out what it's like to have a big brother - because that's how he's been treating me. He's made several trips over to Angel's apartment to pick up the rest of my stuff, because he knows I'm not ready to see him again yet. I'm feeling pampered and cared for, but there's no threat to my independence involved - it's just what I need.

Friday at work goes quickly, and Wes and Gina pick me up afterwards, my case already packed and in the trunk. The banter between us on the way is light-hearted and happy. I can feel the strain of the past few weeks melting away as we get further from LA. Even though I know it was the right decision, leaving Angel was hard. Somehow, through everything since Sunnydale, Angel's been there, a sort of ultimate goal, or at least an insurance policy. As time's gone on, and I haven't met someone I could fall in love with, I've always had the possibility that Angel and I could eventually get together. Now, that I know that can't work, it almost feels like I'm starting over again.

It's dark long before we arrive at our destination, and Gina fell asleep in the car during the drive to the house. Wes helps Gina inside and puts her to bed, while I unpack the car. I might not use those Slayer muscles as much as I used to, but there're times when they come in handy.

Gina packed some food, just some basics to get us started, and I'm putting those away when Wes reappears.

"Oh, you've unpacked the car," he notices, looking at the bags I've left in the hallway.

"There's not so much," I offer, shrugging. He looks slightly embarrassed. He might not be the man who first came to Sunnydale, but some parts of him are still there under the surface. One part, the 'perfect English gentleman' who doesn't feel women should have to unpack cars, is obviously not comfortable with what I've done.

"Slayer muscles," I remind him. "Go and look after your wife," I tell him, shooing him out of the kitchen. He knows I spotted his discomfort, and smiles back at me, before shrugging and picking up the bags containing their things.

Once I've finished in the kitchen, I pick up my own bag, and find the second bedroom. I open the door slightly hesitantly. Obviously, Wes and Gina have taken the master bedroom, and I have visions of a tiny room with bunk beds in my mind.

I couldn't have been more wrong. My first thought is that I've got the wrong room. It's large, well furnished, and there's a queen-sized bed. All of that pales into insignificance when I look across to the far wall. Most of it is glass, with a patio door that seems to lead out onto a deck. I open the door, and walk outside. The view is amazing, leading down to forest below. I'm almost tempted to go and tell Wes that he chose the wrong room, but I don't want to disturb Gina. 

I do a quick round of the rest of the house. The living rooms and the kitchen are on the upper floor, and the bedrooms and bathrooms are below. The dining room has an almost identical view to the one from my bedroom, and the largest of the living rooms has another deck, leading out to a view from another angle. I'm relieved by one thing. There's enough room to make sure that Wes and Gina can have privacy, without me having to consciously keep out of the way. The last of my reservations about coming away with them melt, and I go back to the kitchen, pour myself a diet coke, and return to the deck off my own room to sit and think.

It's very late when I finally go to bed, but I'm already feeling more relaxed than I can remember for a long time. 

__

I recognise it as soon as it starts. It's one of the old dreams, one I haven't had for a long time. Spike and I are back in the cave, and I rescue him, the dream ending as we emerge from the gloom of the cave.

That dream shifts unerringly to the second. I take his hand and the flames engulf our enmeshed fingers. He pushes me away, tells me to go, but I don't, I hold onto his hand tighter as the flames burn hotter, and then they spread, along my arm, to my body, and I know that Spike and I will always be together.

The image shifts again, but this one is new. I'm not in the cave. I don't recognise the place, but it looks familiar, as if I've seen something similar, rather than this particular room before. In the centre of the room is a huge pit, and from where I am, I can see the smoke rising, and I can feel the heat. Despite that, I know I need to look inside, so I approach, slowly, carefully, not knowing what I'm supposed to see.

And there he is. It's Spike, and he's on fire, but his body's not being consumed. He's screaming, I can see his mouth opening, but there's no sound. His arms are raised towards me, and I know he's begging me to help him, to end his agony. I reach as far as I can, but it's not far enough.

I sense someone behind me, and I look round, relieved to see Angel, because he'll help. I tell him to hold onto me, keep me from falling into the pit while I reach further. His hands are around my waist, but, instead of allowing me to reach closer to Spike, he's pulling me away. I start to struggle, trying to pull him towards the pit, but he's shaking his head and smiling.

"No, Buffy, you can't. You'll fall in too. You can't save him."

I struggle harder, and eventually manage to pull free. I lie on the floor, reaching out as far as I can, only to see that Spike has sunk further into the flames. I reach even further, but he's sinking, getting further away from me, and I realise that it's too late.

I waken with a start, and feel the dampness of my pillow. I've been crying, and I lie still, willing my breathing to slow, my heart rate to calm. Slowly, they do, but the tears continue. Suddenly, it's no longer difficult to remember Spike. Everything he ever said, everything he ever did, every touch, each caress, is as clear in my mind as it ever was, and the hole inside me at his loss is as raw as it was when I first knew he was gone.

I must have slept, because the darkness has been replaced by bright sunshine coming through the gap in the curtains. I get up, and open them further to feast my eyes on the view. Beautiful as it was in the dark, it's even better now. I force myself to turn my back on the view, and go into the bathroom.

When I'm showered and dressed, I find my way upstairs. I hear chatting from the dining room, so I poke my head in to see Gina and Wes finishing their breakfast.

"Isn't the view spectacular?" Gina enthuses when she sees me.

"Beautiful, but I think you took the wrong room, Wes."

"Why, what's wrong with your room?" he asks.

"Nothing, it's just, well, it looks like the master bedroom, and..."

They both grin, and then Gina jumps up and grabs my arm, dragging me back downstairs. She opens the door of their room, and pulls me inside.

There was no mistake. The room is even bigger than mine, and it has a king-sized bed. There's also a deck off this room which gives a view very similar to mine. Most surprising, is the bathroom. I've got a shower and a bath; they've got that and a Jacuzzi.

When we get back to the dining room, Wes has gone.

"He'll be at his computer," Gina tells me. "There's a study along the hall, and he said he'd set himself up in there. So, we won't see him for a couple of hours. Why don't you eat, and we'll plan what to do today?"

The next couple of days pass extremely pleasantly. Gina and I spend the mornings together while Wes works, then in the afternoon, we head off together to explore further afield. It would all be perfect, but for one thing.

Spike. I can't get him out of my mind. I've had that same dream, the one where I'm trying to reach him, but Angel's holding me back, every night. And every night, I waken from it to a pillow wet with tears. Almost worse is what happens while we're out. All it takes is someone his build, or some short, bleached hair, or a pair of blue eyes, and I start, checking closer to make sure it's not really him. And, of course, it isn't. Gina's spotted something, but I haven't told her. I don't want her to spend her precious vacation worrying about me.

It's Monday evening. I'm due to meet up with Gina and Wes in an hour, and I'm making my way back to a store we saw earlier. I saw something, and I knew Dawn would love it, but I didn't buy it, and now I'm regretting it. It's a key, made of a beautiful polished green stone. It looks like jade, but I know it's not. I saw it, and immediately thought of her.

As I walk, I spot him ahead of me. The street's crowded, and I have to speed up, and weave in and out of the pedestrians to keep up with him. He's exactly how I remember him, from his white-blonde hair, to the black coat billowing behind him as he strides along. 

I speed up further, and I'm gaining on him. Just a little further. I almost shout out, but somehow, I don't. My arm stretches out, and I grab his shoulder, using more strength than I intended to turn him around.

The man who turns around looks angry. He's ready to hit whoever pulled him round. When he sees me, he looks confused, obviously expecting someone bigger. It's not him. 

Something in my expression seems to worry him more than the pain he must be feeling in his shoulder, because he growls something about leaving him alone, and carries on. I'm aware of the curious stares of people around me, and I start to shake.

I still don't know how, but I manage to get myself into a coffee shop and order myself something to drink. Coffee's probably the last thing I need, but I can't stay out there on the street. To my surprise, the shaking doesn't go once I'm inside. If anything, it's getting worse, and it's taking all my Slayer control not to just give into it.

I glance at my watch, and realise that it's past time I was going back to where I agreed to meet Gina and Wes. I pull out my cell-phone and call, to hear Wes' voice.

"I'm going to be a bit late," I tell him.

"No problem," he answers. "We'll be ok here for a while. What happened? Had they sold the key?"

The question makes no sense at all to me.

"Buffy, are you ok?"

I hear Wes' voice and realise that I've been silent for a while.

"Wes, I'm fine, I'll be..."

"Buffy, you don't sound fine. Where are you?"

I pick up the menu in front of me and read the name of the coffee shop.

"Look, just stay there. We'll come and get you."

I nod, then realise how stupid that is. I manage to say "Yes," and end the call.


	3. Chapter 3 Talking

****

Chapter 3 - Talking

It seems I've only just put my phone down when they're here. They sit at the table, Wesley across from me and Gina by my side, and Gina's arm is around my shoulders, and Wes just looks so worried. It makes it harder.

"What happened?" Wes asks.

I shake my head. If I start talking about it, I'll lose the control I have.

"Do you want to see a doctor? What can we do?"

"No, ... no doctors. Just … take me back?" I sound like I'm begging. Maybe I am.

I start to fumble for the money to pay for my coffee, but Gina puts her hand over mine.

"I'll do that," she offers, while Wesley helps me outside.

The car's illegally parked right outside, and I feel surprise that Wes would do that. He bundles me into the back, and then Gina comes and gets in beside me. I can feel my eyes misting, and I don't know why. She sees that, and puts out her arms to me, and I lean against her, so relieved by the contact that I could cry for that alone.

The journey is largely silent. Gina makes occasional shushing noises, telling me it'll be ok. How can she know it'll be ok, when I don't even know what it is?

We get back, and Gina offers to get me into bed. The prospect makes me panic, because being in bed means being alone, and being in bed means sleep, which probably means dreams. She notices and quickly backtracks, settling me on a sofa in the main living room and sitting beside me.

Wes comes in a few minutes later, and he sits facing us. "Buffy, can you tell us what's wrong? What happened?"

They both look so scared, and I know I've got to tell them, but it all sounds so silly.

"I thought I saw him," I manage.

"Who? Angel?" Wes demands, then looks down, and I know Gina has silently admonished him for being too forceful.

"It's ok," I reassure him. "No, not Angel, Spike."

"Oh," Wes says, but he's looking confused.

"Why would seeing Spike, or thinking you see him, have this effect? Is it a bad memory, did he hurt you or something?"

I think back. Yes, he hurt me. He really did, but I hurt him so much more. I decide that the question doesn't need answering, so I tell him something he's not expecting to hear. 

"I loved him." Somehow, just that bald statement makes it seem more real than ever before. Wes is looking even more confused.

"Let me get this straight. Spike. Drusilla's childe. Unsouled vampire. Tortured Angel."

I nod.

"I don't understand," Wes admits. "I think there's a lot of this story I don't know."

I think about where to begin. "You know about the amulet, and what happened?"

"Amulet?" Wes looks mystified.

"Just before Sunnydale was destroyed, Angel came and he had an amulet. He wanted to be my champion, but I wanted Spike to have it."

"I know Angel went to Sunnydale, and I know he said he had something that might be useful, but I never knew what it was. Come to think about it, I never really knew what happened to Sunnydale. That's not like me at all. I would've been asking questions, asking everyone who'd been there. Why didn't I?"

He realises that questions about his own confusion will have to wait.

"Why don't you tell me the whole thing. Maybe you should start with why you would have chosen Spike to be your champion?"

And so I tell them. I start by telling them about how I felt when I first knew Spike loved me. Of course, then I would have said he was obsessed with me, but I know better now. I tell them everything. I tell them how he helped us, and went on helping and looking after Dawn while I was dead. I tell them how he was the only one I could talk to when I got back.

I even describe the way I used him, although I skim over the worst of the details. I tell them how I finished things with him, and how he wouldn't accept it was over. I describe the scene in the bathroom to gasps of horror from Gina. And then I tell them about the soul, and the way Spike was after that, and the way I realised that I loved him.

"Did Angel know about the soul?" Wes asks.

"Yeah, he found out when he came with the amulet."

"Did he know you cared about Spike then?"

"I … I told him.

"He never mentioned it." Wes sounds incredulous. "He knew that I'd been researching prophecies and anything I could get my hands on about souled vampires, and he never said a word."

He's silent for a moment, and I can feel myself relaxing. Somewhere back in my story I loosened my control, but I'm no longer shaking.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Wesley pulls himself from his own thoughts. "What happened in Sunnydale?"

And so I describe Spike's last few moments. The tears fall freely down my cheeks as I speak, and Gina holds me closer. It's not a happy story, but it just feels so good to be telling it. It feels like it's been bottled up here for seven long years, and the dam has burst.

When I finish, I realise that Gina's shaking slightly, and I look at her face, surprised to see that she's crying too. Wes allows me a couple of moments to pull myself together, then he prompts me to continue.

"I thought I saw him today. He was just ahead of me, and I hurried to catch him. But, when I pulled him round to face me, it wasn't him. It wasn't anything like him. I don't even know how I could have thought… It must be the dreams."

"What dreams?"

"The ones I've been having since we got here."

And so I describe the dreams, telling them that I'd had two of them often before I moved to LA.

"But the dreams stopped when you moved?" Wes insists.

"Yeah."

"Buffy, when you've been on vacation before, away from LA, did you have the dreams then?"

I think about it. "I haven't been out of LA since I moved there, well, at least, not to stay. A couple of day trips, but nothing more. The business took all my time at first, and then there was Angel, and I didn't want to go away and leave him, and he could never get away."

"So, the first time you spend the night away from LA the dreams start again?"

"Yeah."

"Except now the dreams are different, or at least there's a new one?"

"Yes. The others, they were, well, happy. The new one … isn't."

"Could it be a Slayer dream?"

I stop suddenly. The prospect hadn't even occurred to me. I'm sure the others aren't, and I'd just lumped the third with them.

"I don't know, I suppose it could be," I admit.

"Buffy, honey," Gina breaks in, stroking my hair. "Do you want to go and lie down now? You look exhausted."

I realise she's right, and suddenly the prospect of being alone isn't too scary.

"Yeah, I think that'd be a good idea."

We get up from the sofa, and she walks me to my room.

"I'm sorry, Gina," I apologise at the door. "I don't want to spoil your vacation."

"No problem," she reassures me. "Anyway, did you see Wes' face? He's got a puzzle to work on now, and that's far more interesting than the work he's been doing with Giles."

That makes me smile slightly. She's right. Wes did seem remarkably perky.

I'm still smiling when I lie down on the bed, pulling the covers over me. My eyes are closing before I'm even comfortable, and I hope for the happy dreams.

__

No happy dreams. As soon as it starts, I know how it's going to end, even though the start is different. I'm in an office building, and I recognise it. I knew that I recognised the style before, but I couldn't place it. This time, I know exactly where it is. It's the Wolfram and Hart building.

I've been there a couple of times before with Angel, just to visit. Fighting evil's Angel's business now, not mine.

The entrance is palatial. I go straight to the elevator. Dream-Buffy seems to know where she's going. The button I want isn't there. I don't know how I know it even exists, but I do. 

I'm startled by someone coming in behind me. A glance shows Lilah. Now, I've never met Lilah, although Gina mentioned her a time or two. She's someone from Wes' past, and when she's feeling insecure, Gina worries about her. So, how do I know it's Lilah?

"Hi, there," she says brightly. "I think you're looking for this."

She reaches into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out a button, placing it on the panel in front of me.

"Of course, you'll be too late," she adds with a smile that would be sweet if I thought it was genuine.

"You're dead," I remind her.

"Yes, I am," she agrees. "But that doesn't mean I'm finished."

"Finished what?"

"My job. I won't be finished until I've succeeded. Then, well, maybe my contract will be … modified."

"What job is that, then? Irritating me to death?"

"Something so simple? Wouldn't be worth my talents. No, but then, it would spoil all the fun if I told you, wouldn't it? But, because Wes seems to care about you, a word of warning. Leave things alone, or you're going to get your fingers burnt."

She smiles again, but any hint of sweetness, however false, is gone.

"Be seeing you," she offers, before she walks back out into the entrance hall.

Unbidden, the doors close, and the elevator starts to move, the only button illuminated the one she placed there.

It takes several minutes of descent before the doors open. It's the room I remember. The polished marble of the floor extends for several yards in front of me before the pit. I run towards it, and he's there. I check my pockets, looking for anything, a bit of rope, something to hold out to him, but there's nothing. I lie on the floor, inching forwards as far as I can, reaching out to him. 

I can feel the heat, it's making my eyes sting, and I can see the skin on my fingers blistering, but I can't reach him. Somehow, though, I don't feel any pain, so I inch further towards him, and I'm so close, I can almost touch him, and then I'm being pulled back, and I know before I look that it's Angel.

He pulls me out of the way, then lets me go.

"You can't reach him, Buffy. You're going to get your fingers burnt if you keep going."

I glance back at the pit, but Spike's gone now, so I throw myself at Angel, punching and kicking him. 

"Buffy, wake up." The words seep into my brain, and I know they're not the first, just the first that have penetrated.

I open my eyes, and Wes is there, shaking my shoulder. I sit up quickly, relieved to note that I lay down fully dressed. As I put my hand down onto the bed to pull myself up, I wince in pain. I look at my hands. The fingers on my right hand are blistered and reddened. I stare at them uncomprehendingly, as Wes does the same. 

He pulls me into the bathroom and turns on the cold water, pushing my hand under the flow. Once I'm there, he goes, returning a few moments later with the first aid kit from the car. He's sorting out what's needed, but motions to me to keep my fingers in the flowing water.

Gina pokes her head into the bathroom, looking sleepy.

"I heard the door," she explains, then takes in the situation.

"What've you done?" she asks, turning my hand over without removing it from the soothing water.

"I … dreamt about Spike and the pit again. When I woke up …"

Between them, they get my hand cleaned and bandaged. I know it'll be fine in no time, Slayer healing being what it is, but the fuss helps me to keep the circumstances out of my mind for a little while. I know it's only a temporary reprieve, because Wes'll be asking questions as soon as he's finished.

I'm not disappointed. Gina tries to get him to wait, but I shake my head. There's something going on and Wes is my best hope for finding out what. I describe the dream, which I remember in detail. I see Wes wince at Lilah's involvement, but he covers well. When I'm finished, he seems deep in thought.

"Have you ever been injured in a Slayer dream before?"

"No," I answer.

"That's what I thought. I don't think this is a Slayer dream, but I'm certain it has a purpose of some sort."

I nod.

"I've been busy while you were both napping," he tells us. "I've been interrogating the W&H system for information on the amulet or on Spike's soul. There's nothing. I've got the highest clearance I know of, except maybe for Angel, and there's nothing. As far as the records are concerned, there's only ever been one vampire with a soul, and he's the dark and brooding one."

"Well, if no one other than Angel knew, and he didn't tell anyone …" I offer.

"The system at W&H doesn't rely on anything as esoteric as people filing reports. We have an … automated system. Things happen, and the information is available. If there's nothing on Spike's soul or the amulet, it's because someone doesn't want anyone else to know about them."

"Who?" I ask.

"Only two possibilities I can think of," he answers, looking grim. "It's either Angel, or the senior partners haven't left us alone as much as they've led us to believe. Of course, whatever's stopped us from remembering anything, may also be working on Angel."

My first reaction is to argue that it can't be Angel. I mean, why would he want to do it? What would he have to gain from keeping quiet about everything, and yet it's obvious he did, even if he's not responsible for actively hiding the information.

"Buffy," Gina says, softly. "Something I though about while I was sitting on the deck, before I nodded off. With your background, you know how important it is not to keep things to yourself. So, why have you never told me about Spike?"

She almost sounds hurt, and I understand that. I think I would be too, if she kept something from me when talking about it could help.

"I used to talk about it. Not to just anyone, but Dawn and Willow. Dawn loved him too, but in a different way, but I wonder if one of the reasons she moved out of state was because I couldn't move on, couldn't stop talking about him and what he did for us." I pause, remembering that time.

"Then, I moved to LA, and I just didn't want to talk about him any more. Now I think about it, it's odd. It was as if one day he was in my thoughts, and the next he wasn't. I can't understand why I'd change so suddenly."

"I have my suspicions," Wes states, and I turn to face him. "The simple fact that I've never asked Angel about what happened, never thought to ask you, is quite simply out of character. Add to that the fact that I've never before thought to check the W&H system for the information, and you've got something that screams 'conspiracy' at me."

"What about when you've been away? You must've been out of LA some time."

"Yes, I have, but since it's not been something I was thinking about before I left, I can only assume that my not thinking about it then was a completely natural phenomenon. The rest of it, I've got to assume is some sort of magic at work."

Gina pales at his words. Her hands stray to her stomach, caressing the child that's protected there. "So, what do we do?"

"You, my love, do nothing. I don't want you involved in this at all."

"But …" she starts to argue.

"I mean it, Gina. I don't want you involved in the magic. I think Buffy'd still appreciate your friendship, though."

She squeezes my left hand, as if trying to reassure me that she's still there for me.

"What I want to do, is get someone to see if they can find something. I'd use someone at W&H, but if this is Angel, or even the Senior Partners, then we don't know who we can trust."

He thinks for a moment. "Do you think Willow would be able to pay us a visit?"

"I don't know," I answer. "I can call and ask …"

"Good. Until we know the nature of the spell that's been used, we can't counter it. It's important that we get back to LA with our memories intact, or we'll be unable to investigate this. Someone doesn't want us to know something about Spike and that amulet. And, my experience tells me that if they've gone to this much trouble, then it's probably very important."


	4. Chapter 4 Marking Time

****

Chapter 4 - Marking Time

I've been feeling a bit like the 'child who must be humoured' today. After the dream, I finally managed to get some sleep, and then I called Willow first thing this morning. I didn't tell her exactly what was going on, but she must've known from my tone of voice that I was worried. She called me a little while ago to tell me she's flying into Seattle tomorrow night.

Since then, I've been kept busy. They didn't actually say that's what they were doing, but I know what's been going on. Wes and Gina have been trying to keep me occupied today so that I won't think about anything that might upset me. Fortunately, my hand's so much better that I've even been able to leave off the bandage, so I'm actually feeling pretty good, considering. 

We've spent the day looking around Seattle. True to its reputation, it's been raining pretty much all day, so we changed our original plans in favour of the city itself. We arrived at the Space Needle late morning, to take in the view. Of course, it's one of the obligatory stops, but it's well worth doing anyway. And then, we found Wes'd managed to book us in for lunch there too. So, we sat and chatted and looked out over the city. Wes and Gina ate too, and seemed to enjoy what they had. I can't actually remember what I ordered.

It's hard. Once, it was easy. Demons were bad. Demons had to be killed, and preferably now. Then there was Angel, and it changed a bit. Demons had to be killed, unless they had souls. Then Angel lost his soul, and because I loved him, I couldn't kill him, so other people died. 

And then it got complicated. And that was mainly Spike. He showed me something else, the grey area. Yes, he was a vampire, a demon, but he wasn't just a mindless killer. He wasn't even particularly bent on killing for the sake of it. He didn't have Angelus' love for playing with his victims. And that was before he had a soul. The chip caused him to stop, and think. I know at first it was just self-preservation, but it was soon more than that. He didn't just help us because we paid him, because we really didn't pay him enough. And he didn't just help us to get his daily dose of violence. He proved to me that a demon can love. It took me a long time to learn that lesson, and once I had, everything became much more difficult.

Difficult or not, right now, all I want is for someone to point out the bad guy, so I can go and kill him. Like I used to. I want to know what's happening, whether it's really something to do with Spike or something different. I need to know who's been playing with my mind.

The images from the dreams are just in my mind all the time. As soon as I relax, all I can see is his face. Sometimes it's an actual memory, sometimes it's the contorted, tortured face from the latest of my dreams. If I could've arranged it, Willow would've been here this morning, and maybe we'd be on our way to understanding what this is all about, and maybe I'd be closer to the point where I go and kill the bad demon. But I know that she's got her own life now, and I'm lucky she's willing to drop everything like she is.

Despite the horror of the recent dreams, there's a comforting feeling about all this too. I've tried not to pay any attention to it, because I know it's going to end up being just my imagination, but it's almost as though Spike's trying to contact me, as if he still exists in some form, somewhere. 

Now, I'm not a scoffing disbeliever. I mean, I've died twice already, and my heart's currently beating quite normally, thank you very much. So I know miracles happen sometimes. Of course, they need some human intervention too - Xander the first time, and then Willow and the others the second time. But, whenever my mind starts to wander in that direction, the sensible part of me reins in that feeling pretty quickly. Wonderful as it'd be to have him back, to have the chance to show him that I really did love him, I know it's not going to happen.

We travel back to the house by late afternoon. I know Wes is itching to get back to work. Until he knows what's happening as far as the W&H records are concerned, he's limiting his research to other sources. He's hoping to return to some of the sources he used in the days before Wolfram and Hart resources made actual research unnecessary. And I know he called Giles this morning, too. 

Gina decides to have a long soak in the Jacuzzi when we get back, complaining of sore feet. I find I'm drawn to the room Wes appropriated for his research. He nods at me, and gestures for me to sit down, while he continues typing something.

"Find anything?" I ask.

"Give me time, won't you?" he asks in mock exasperation. "I've got some things from Giles, though."

He looks at me, I assume to gauge my reaction to that.

"I wonder why he never told me he was working on that."

He doesn't speak, because, just then, the download finishes. He runs through the various folders and titles, then clicks to bring the accompanying email back to the screen.

__

Wesley,

I'm sending you my entire file. Fortunately for you, my new assistant insists on making electronic files of everything. As you will see, it's the result of a great deal of work, carried out over the intervening seven years. I haven't found anything conclusive. Several times I've found a reference that seems to match the circumstances perfectly, but there's always been something that simply didn't match, so I've had to discard the theory.

I'm leaving it to your discretion how much you tell Buffy about this. You didn't know her immediately after Sunnydale was destroyed. She was very unhappy, grieving, even, and I have been striving since then to encourage her to move on from that time. I thought she had at last done that, even if I had doubts about her ultimate choice. Whatever has caused her to re-open the wounds of that time, I tend to believe to be an evil influence. I certainly doubt it can be altogether wholesome.

I suspect she won't listen if I try to persuade her of my concerns. Regardless of what has happened since Sunnydale, she's still seen as 'The Slayer' in some circles, and she certainly made a lot of enemies due to her many successes. My belief about the dreams is that they've been sent specifically to weaken her for some forthcoming attack. I'd appreciate it if you'd alert her to such a possibility. Perhaps you'll have more success in persuading her than I would have.

Giles

I assume Wes has already read the note, and when I finish, he's looking at me.

When he speaks, his voice is reassuring. "While his theory is certainly a possibility that had occurred to me, I believe the corroborating evidence, especially the apparent involvement of someone at Wolfram and Hart, makes that less likely. The amulet originally came from that source, and there may be something about it that's significant. However, I see no need to hide any of this from you. It seems to me that you've been upset enough by not understanding, and that knowledge can only help." 

I nod, and then find myself grinning as thoughts of my first dealings with Wes come to mind, and I can't help but contrast the two. Then, he treated me as if I were a mindless tool to be used by the Council without offering an opinion if any sort, simply following the instructions from my 'elders'. That was back in the days when things were simple, but even then, I wasn't quite the blunt instrument he expected me to be.

"I wish he'd told me he was working on this. I might've been able to help, add something."

"He was trying to protect you."

"Yes, I remember how he tried to protect me." I sound surprisingly bitter, even to myself.

Wes is looking for an explanation, so I give it.

"In the weeks before the final confrontation with the First, Giles and I had some … disagreements. He didn't trust Spike, and he didn't understand why I relied on him so much."

"Surely that's understandable, especially considering your history?"

"He could never accept my part of the responsibility for … our history. We were both wrong, but Giles acted like it was all Spike. He didn't get the immensity of what Spike did after that. Even though he knew it'd probably destroy him, he won a soul. He'd seen Angel, knew he'd spent years on the verge of madness after he got his soul, but he did it anyway. So he wouldn't hurt me again."

My thoughts are right back there again, and I remember the confusion I felt when I first knew what he'd done. We were in a church, and he draped himself across a cross. I could hear the hissing as his skin scorched and burned, and I was frozen to the spot, shocked and unable to help him.

I'm brought back to the present by Wes' voice.

"Working with you changed Giles a lot. But remember his background, his training, everything he was taught to believe said that vampires were evil. No exceptions. Then there was Angel, and just as Giles was starting to think he could trust a vampire, he lost his soul, and killed someone Giles loved. 

"But Spike was different, even without the soul, he was different."

"Giles still saw Spike as an evil creature who was trying to get close to you so that he would be better able to hurt you. He must've been shocked to find out about your … relationship."

"Yeah, he was so shocked, he laughed until he couldn't stand up any more."

He looks as if he doesn't believe me. True, the fact that I'd been sleeping with Spike seemed pretty trivial compared to Willow trying to end the world, but it really wasn't the reaction I'd been expecting either.

"He cares about you a great deal. I know you're not as close as you once were, but he still wants what's best for you, and I'm sure that's what motivated him then. He believed that Spike was potentially a weapon for the First to use against you."

"I know that, he made it quite clear at the time. He couldn't see that Spike had changed, but that we needed to have faith in him. Instead, he tried to get rid of the 'problem' altogether."

I almost feel sick at the recollection of how close we came to disaster that night. But Wes doesn't know that story. I'm pretty sure Giles wouldn't have told him, and I know I haven't.

"Did you ever hear about Robin Wood? He was one of the group that escaped from Sunnydale."

He shakes his head. 

"How about Nikki Wood?"

"The New York Slayer killed by William the Bloody."

"The same. And she had a son."

"The son of Nikki Wood was in Sunnydale at the end? What was he doing?"

"Well, by day, he was the Principal of Sunnydale High School. By night, he was a demon hunter. Except he'd set his sights on one particular demon."

"Spike."

"Yeah, well, of course we didn't know. Then, he hatched a plan to get me out of the way so he could get what he wanted. The First had messed with Spike. She'd put this trigger in his head, a song his mother used to sing to him. When he heard that, he'd do what the First wanted. It even stopped the chip working, or made it so he couldn't feel it firing. We never did find out which. Anyway, Robin asked Giles to keep me busy so he could destroy Spike. And Giles agreed. It would've worked too, except for one thing. Spike was too strong. Robin played the tune, and it made Spike lose control. He beat him up pretty badly, but then Spike managed to come to terms with the memories. Once that'd happened, the trigger didn't work any more, and Spike was able to beat Robin."

"But you said Robin escaped from Sunnydale."

"Yeah. Spike let him live."

I picture the garage Robin had prepared. I remember every detail, the malevolence that must've gone into covering the walls with crosses. He didn't just want to stake Spike, he wanted him to suffer.

"And, if Robin had succeeded, this world would probably have been destroyed," I add.

"Perhaps, but surely you'd have chosen Angel as your champion instead."

I shrug. "Maybe, but I don't think I would've made it that far."

Again, I'm impressed by Wes' patience. He's waiting for me to continue, but he's not pushing.

"Giles wasn't the only one who didn't trust me. The others, the potentials, Faith, Willow, Dawn, even Xander, they thought I was wrong to go after Caleb at the vineyard. I knew there was something there that he wanted to keep from me, but they didn't want to follow me back. I know we didn't come off too well the first time, and Xander lost an eye, but I knew I was right. And they decided to follow Faith instead."

"I left them. I left my home, and I wandered the streets for hours. When I was tired, I found a house I thought was deserted, and went upstairs to rest. He found me. Spike, he found me. I was so alone. I thought they were right, that I was responsible for everything bad that'd happened. He held me that night. He just held me, and gave me back my confidence, my self-respect, my strength. By morning, I knew what to do. I went back to the vineyard alone, and I got the scythe. Without that, I doubt I'd have made it to the final confrontation. And even if I had, there would've only been two Slayers in the mix at the end. I don't think we'd have lasted long enough for the amulet to do its work."

There's silence then, and Wes turns to the computer. He clicks on a document entitled 'Index', and reads its contents. The list is impressive. It looks like Giles has been working hard, and it hurts that he didn't mention any of it to me.

"You're welcome to stay if you want, Buffy," Wes interrupts my thoughts. "But this is going to take a long time to wade through. And by the looks of it, most of the source material isn't in English. Call it professional pride if you want, but I'd prefer to do my own translations. There are so many possibilities in some of these languages - words that have multiple meanings depending on how they're used. Once they've been translated, it's easy to forget the possibilities of the original, and get stuck with a single interpretation."

"I get it," I respond, getting up from my chair. Give me a book in English and I'm only fair to middling at picking out what's important. Put it in another language, and I might as well start looking for patterns in the ceiling.

I go to the main living room, and note that the rain seems to have stopped. I go out onto the deck, and sit, looking out at the landscape which is so different from home. And I don't just mean different from LA's concrete. It's so green, and so many shades of it, all of it fresh from the rain. As I sit, I'm aware of the tension of my muscles, particularly around the shoulders, and I make an effort to relax.

I start at my toes. I consciously relax them, then imagine that they've been covered in warm water, soothing and cleansing. I mentally travel up my body, and the feeling of warmth and wellbeing follows its progress, until, at last, I reach my face, and I can feel the gentle heat everywhere as I close my eyes.

I let my mind wander. And then I realise I'm not alone. I open my eyes, and I see him, standing in front of me, smiling. It's not a memory as far as I can tell, because I don't remember him smiling at me like that. Or if he did, I made sure not to see.

"Spike." I smile at the word, and the pleasure I feel at seeing him is gentle but profound.

"Buffy." I recognise the tone. The way he says my name, it's so much more than just a word, it's almost an act of worship.

He looks so … normal - dressed in black, pale skin, white hair, blue, blue eyes. There's so much I want to tell him, so much I want to ask, but somehow words seem inappropriate. Still, Buffy and silence are kinda unmixy things, so I have to say something.

"I've missed you."

"I've been here."

"Where?"

"Around, watching."

"Are you … are you happy?" It's very important to me that he is.

"I have been, well, most of the time. It hurt when you were sad about something, but otherwise, yeah, I've been happy."

"What's happening?"

"Can't tell you that, love. Shouldn't even be here, but they couldn't stop me. I think it's because you touched it, the amulet, at the end. It linked us, somehow."

"Is something trying to hurt you?"

"Could say that," he smiles back at me. "Could use some help, but I think the Watcher's on the right lines. He came alright in the end, didn't he? The new Watcher?"

"Yeah, he turned out fine," I agree, but he's already fading, and I start to see the green of the hillside through him, and then he's gone.

The sense of loss I feel is almost incapacitating. I almost felt I could touch him, hold him, and I wonder why I didn't. Maybe I was afraid to move, afraid to do anything to break the spell.

"Buffy?"

Gina comes round in front of me, and by her expression, she's been calling my name for a while.

"He was here," I tell her.

She looks confused.

"Spike."

"You must've been asleep. It was a dream."

"Maybe, but it didn't feel like a dream. He said he needed some help, but that Wes was doing the right thing. He seemed to … approve of how he turned out."

"Well, he won't get an argument from me on that."

I smile at Gina. She sits next to me, and we both look out over the view in companionable silence. My imagination takes over, and I start to consider what life could be like if he really came back. To be loved like that, the way he loved me, but to love him back, to know that he's my equal in every way - it's a future that's almost painfully wonderful to consider. Because, deep down, I know it's not going to happen. And if the past few days have showed me anything, it's that my feelings for him have remained intact for the past seven years. It's obvious now what was missing with Angel. The only thing I don't understand, is why I didn't see it before.


	5. Chapter 5 First Clues

****

Chapter 5 - First Clues 

Soon after we get up in the morning, it's obvious Gina isn't feeling well. She tries to hide it, but her complexion is just the wrong shade of green for the rest of her colouring. And, just in case we didn't spot that, the rapid movement towards the nearest bathroom is a bit of a give-away.

"I'm sorry," she apologies when she returns, a worried Wes at her side. "It's like morning sickness, but I don't get it all the time. The thing is, I don't think I could cope with going on a ferry today."

We had planned on doing some ferry rides, just for the fun and the views, but I understand. Nausea on top of motion sickness is too much to expect her to cope with. 

Once he's sure Gina is feeling a little better, Wes returns to his computer. Gina starts to apologise again, but I interrupt her.

"Look, I really don't mind. My mind's on Spike anyway, and it's all I can do to force myself to think about anything else. The trip'd be wasted on me. Now, is there anything I can get you?"

"Well, maybe I could manage something - maybe some toast?"

"Anything on it?"

If anything her complexion turns slightly greener as she considers that.

"No, just dry."

"Ok, and anything to drink?"

"Some ginger ale?" 

I walk towards the kitchen to get what she wants. As I'm waiting for the toast to finish, I'm thinking. Wes worked late last night, but when I asked him this morning what he'd found, he was vague. I got the impression that he's found something, but he wants to be sure before he tells me. There was a time when I'd have been sitting on him, waiting for him to tell me everything as soon as possible, but I'm trying not to. I know he'll tell me. And then there's Willow. She's due in this evening, and it looks like Wes'll have to go and pick her up at the airport. If Gina's still feeling queasy, she won't want to go, but Wes won't want her left alone. And then there's me and driving - never was my favourite thing to do.

I can't wait to see Will again. It's been a couple of years since we were last together, and phone calls just aren't the same thing at all. And apart from wanting to see her, I'm desperate to know what's been going on. I just hope she can answer some of the questions I've got. 

~~~~~

It's been a lazy day. I've spent a good part of it sitting on the deck, trying to re-create whatever it was that let me talk to Spike yesterday, but it hasn't worked. Oddly, that hasn't left me feeling frustrated, but it has been relaxing. Gina's nausea has been coming and going pretty much all day, but when she's been feeling up to it, we've had some concentrated 'girl time'. I've told her a lot more about Spike than before - not just the important, big things, but all the little things too. The way he looked at me, and the way he used to say my name. I don't think I've talked so much in a very long time. 

From what she said, it looks like the nausea was a result of getting over-tired yesterday. She had some days like this earlier in her pregnancy, especially before school broke up, but she's been ok for a while. She thought she'd passed that stage, but now she suspects she just did too much yesterday, and she's been paying for it. She went to bed a little while ago, determined to be feeling better by the morning.

Wes should be back soon. He called as they left the airport, and now I'm waiting for the sound of an engine to tell me they're here. He said he'd spend the return journey filling Willow in on what's been happening. We haven't got a lot of time before we're expected back in LA, and we can't postpone our return in case it alerts someone to what we've discovered so far.

At last I hear the engine approach, and I run up to the front door, pulling it open to see the car pulling up in front of the house. Willow grins as she sees me, and she's out of the car almost before it stops completely. And then we're hugging. She looks well, and I mean really well. The guilt about the past was still with her, right up until the end of Sunnydale. Even then, she still had some doubts, and she took them with her when she and Kennedy moved to Cleveland. That doubt's gone from her face now. I've got to admit that I never took to Kennedy the way I took to Tara, but she's been good for Willow. Where Tara was the more responsible one in the partnership, now it's Willow, and I think that the responsibility's been good for her.

We come in, and I take her into my room. There was a sofa in one of the living rooms that doubles as a bed, and I hauled it into my room. I thought she'd prefer to be on the lower floor with the rest of us (to say nothing of the bathrooms), and there's plenty of space. 

Wes goes to check on Gina while I get Willow settled, but she doesn't want to waste any time. As soon as she's done the bare minimum of unpacking, she wants to get started.

We move into the smaller living room, which I set up earlier with a small table and some chairs. Willow puts a case down on the table, and starts to prepare a few things.

"I've brought everything I should need," she explains. "First, I'd like to just do the trancy-thing that you did when you found that Dawn wasn't your sister like you remembered. I'll get it set up, but I won't start until Wes comes back."

"Good," I reply, actually rather relieved. I need whatever help Willow can give us, but I'm still wary of magic. I spend the time thinking of the times magic went wrong, but then, of course, I'm reminded of the time Willow's spell caused Spike and me to get engaged. At the time, it seemed awful - that magic could change my feelings like that, make me love someone I really hated. Now, I can't imagine really hating him. I can remember thinking that I hated him, but I can't remember feeling it.

Wes comes in a few moments later.

"How is she?" I ask.

"Sleeping soundly. I knew yesterday was too much for her, but she wouldn't say anything at the time."

Wes and I make ourselves comfortable, and Willow starts the trance, sitting immobile on the floor, in a circle inscribed with sand. I once asked her why she used the floor so much for these things, and she told me it was because there wasn't so far to fall. I never was sure whether she was joking or not.

She opens her eyes, and looks around the room slowly, appearing almost drugged. She gets up off the floor and walks towards me, studying me very carefully. When she reaches me, she stretches out her hand to my face, stroking my cheek, then moving down to my neck. She spends several moments running her finger around my neck, and then following a line from there, diagonally to my chest. There, she inscribes a circular shape, before tracing another line up towards my neck.

When she's finished with me, she approaches Wes, studying him closely. She makes no attempt to touch him, although she does gesture to him to raise his hands so she can study them better.

When she's finished, she returns to the floor, sitting as she started, and then she reaches out and breaks the ring of sand around her.

She sits for a couple of moments, as if getting her bearings, and then she looks up. She stares at me for a moment, then stands and comes to sit next to me.

"Well, what did you see?"

"The amulet, I saw the amulet."

"Spike's amulet?"

She nods, and I realise what was happening.

"You could see it around my neck, couldn't you? That's what you were tracing with your hand."

"Yeah. But that's not all. Whatever the deal is with the amulet, I don't think it's got anything to do with the memory thing. It's more like it's imprinted itself on you. The other thing I saw was pretty clear. It's a variant of the spell I used - the forgetting spell. The basis is the same, but it's been refined past anything I've seen before. It's fading, but whether that's because you've moved from the source, or whether it's a time-related fading, I can't tell. If anything, I'm more surprised that the fading's gone far enough to make a difference. I'd have thought it was still pretty powerful."

She bites her lip for a moment, and I know she's puzzling something out. "It's just a thought, but it could be that's because of the amulet. Maybe it's weakening the spell in some way. Maybe, it's been doing that all along, and the spell was meant to completely wipe Spike from your mind. There was definitely a sense of protection coming from the amulet."

"What about Wes?" I ask.

"Well, there hasn't been a spell on him as such. It's more like he's … been touching something that's been magicked, and he's got some of it on his fingers."

"As if the information itself is protected, and I've just picked up the residue?" he asks.

"Exactly."

"So, what can we do about it?"

"Well, I can give you something - a sort of counter-charm. I'll make it as specific as I can, so it'll counter the memory spell, and make it possible to see what's hidden, hopefully without affecting the amulet thingy, because I really only got positive vibes from that. And, even if I didn't, since I don't have any idea of the sort of power that's left that mark on you, it's not very likely that I'd be able to counter it even if I wanted to. I've got what I need, but the best way to administer it would be through the skin, and by inhalation."

I'm really not sure I like the sound of that.

"Through the skin?" I ask. 

"It's ok, Buffy. The best option would be to put it in something for you to use in the bath. That way, if you have a good soak for fifteen or twenty minutes, you'll absorb more than enough to counteract the other mojo. What I'll do tomorrow, is I'll buy some stuff, you know, bubble bath or something, and I'll add the rest of the ingredients to that. Then, as long as you use it daily, you should stay immune."

I'm relieved. I was sure she was going to say I had to inject or drink something containing eye of newt or something like that. I can't say I'm too impressed with the idea of bathing in it either, but it's definitely a lesser evil.

"So, anything new on the research front?" I ask Wes. I know, I promised myself I wouldn't nag, but I need to know.

"Well, I've been through a couple of Giles' leads, and I agree that they're not what we're looking for. The one I'm working on now looks a lot more hopeful, though, and I'd really like to get back to it. There's a particularly difficult passage I need to translate, and I managed to think of an alternative possibility while I was waiting for Willow. So …"

He gets up then, to go back to his work, and Willow and I are alone.

"So, Spike, eh?" she says, looking up at me.

"Spike. He's been in my thoughts so much these past few days, that it's hard to believe it's been seven years."

"Are you sure you're not just reacting to the break-up with Angel?"

I considered that too, in the beginning, but it didn't take me long to discount the possibility.

"I've never been more sure of anything. I knew I loved Spike while we were still in Sunnydale. I even told him, at the end. I just didn't know what I wanted. I mean, I loved him, but I also thought I loved Angel. If Spike had been able to leave with us, I don't know what I'd have done, because I wasn't ready to settle down with anyone. But I did love him, even if I didn't know who I really was."

"I know you missed him, well, we all knew. Even Xander, although he tried to pretend that it was something else you were missing. Even Giles, before he went back to England, told me he wished you'd be able to get over Spike."

"It felt like I'd lost my … anchor. No matter how lost I was in that last couple of years, he was always there, loving me, watching my back, even when I wished he wasn't. And then, I got my wish. And then I came to LA, and Giles got his." There's that bitterness back again.

"You don't think Giles had anything to do with it, do you?"

"Giles? What? No. I don't think he's been doing any magic. Not just to make me forget Spike."

"So, who? Angel?"

"I thought that too, but it doesn't make sense. Well, it does in some ways, but not in others. When I moved to LA, he still had the whole total happiness clause to worry about. And, as far as I can tell, that's when it all started, right when I moved."

"Or, that's when you were close enough to the source to stop the amulet from protecting you completely."

I shrug. "I suppose it could be like that. As long as I don't forget it again. He said he needed our help, and I'm going to make sure he gets it."

And then I realise that Willow might not be so keen to help Spike as I am. "Are you ok with this Will? I mean, helping Spike?"

"Well, the 'I'm going to bite you' Spike maybe not so much. The 'I saved the world' Spike - yeah, I think I can go with helping him if he needs it."

"How about the 'my friend loves him' Spike?"

"Him too, I guess."

"So," I say, trying to make my voice sound bright and worry-free. "How's Kennedy? And Slaying? And did you ever manage to perfect your portable sunlight?"

She laughs at the memory of her early attempts to create artificial sunlight. "Kennedy's fine, I think. We've been spending less time together lately, but I think we're still ok. With work and everything, it's sometimes hard to spend enough 'couple time', but she's busy too."

****

Having an indefinite article with "sunlight" seemed a bit odd at first, but now I'm not sure.

"Sorry I had to drag you away."

"No problem. Ken's away now too - visiting some friends. They're not people I feel … comfortable with, so she went on her own."

"Why don't you feel comfortable with them?"

"Oh, you know. Imagine Cordelia in high school, then imagine the sort of crowd who'd have thought she wasn't good enough. I feel like I'm back to being the nerdy freak when I'm with them, and that's not how I want to feel any more."

"If they're that bad, why does Kennedy want to be with them?"

"I don't know, but she does. It's like she needs to remind herself of where she comes from sometimes. She gets a bit edgy when she hasn't been around them for a while. It's funny. She seems so confident, so sure of herself, but underneath, it's like she needs them to tell her she's ok before she believes it."

She's quiet for a few seconds, but I know she wants to say something else. "There was a time I'd have done something, used some spell or other to make it so she didn't need anyone but me. Even now, I'm thinking about how it could be done, but I know I won't. I didn't learn that lesson with Tara until it was too late, and I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

We're both thoughtful for a few seconds, and then it's Willow's turn to change the subject.

"So, how did Angel take the news?" she asks. "I was so surprised when I got your email. I though you and Angel were together for life."

"I thought so too, at first. I mean, it's what I wanted when I was in school, and it's what I thought I wanted for so long after that. But we just weren't right together. He was … surprised, I think, when I told him it wasn't working, but I think he understood when I explained - well at least as well as I did then. The magic was gone, you know?"

"So, he's ok?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since I moved out, and Wes says he hasn't seen much of him either. He's probably thrown himself back into his work for a while, but I think he'll be fine. He loved Cordelia too, and he got over that. He'll find someone, someone who needs him. It's not as though he's getting any older."

"Very true," Willow agrees.

"So, you tired?" I ask, noticing that Willow was stifling a yawn. 

"Yeah, I am."

"Ok, you take the bathroom first, if you like," I offer. "I'll just sort out your bed."

A short while later, we're both settled in bed, and I turn off the light.

"Goodnight, Willow. It's good to see you again."

"Yeah, it is. Maybe I should try to arrange to come to LA some time."

"Yeah, that'd be great. Just wait till I've got my own apartment. I can't really expect Wes and Gina to take in my guests too."

"Ok," she agrees. "I'm looking forward to meeting Gina. Wes is different than I remembered. Even when I got Angel's soul back for him the second time, Wes had changed, but he's different again. Then, he was more confident, like he'd grown up. Now, he's still with the being grown up, but he's kinda softer too. In a good way."

"Yeah. I don't know what I'd have done without them, both of them. I guess I'm lucky, really. All those years of being the Slayer, and I got to share it with friends I could trust to stick with me no matter how tough it got. And here I am again, different town, different problems, and I've still got friends who'll stick with me, do whatever they can to help."

"Yeah, well, count this girl in on the helping, but only if it can wait till morning," Willow warns, before yawning again.

I take the hint, and stop talking. Instead I just listen to the quiet, the sounds of her breathing, and the quiet ticking of a clock somewhere. The next thing I hear is that her breathing has slowed, and I know she's asleep. Now, I wonder if I'm going to be able to sleep. My hand moves to my neck, remembering the path Willow's finger traced. The amulet. Spike said it linked us, and Willow could see it and felt it was protecting me in some way. I knew I wasn't dreaming when I saw Spike last night, and this just confirms that. The down side of it is that it means that someone's trying to hurt him, but at least we can now work to make sure that doesn't happen.

~~~~~

Next morning, Will and I go into town to pick up supplies. I want to sniff at the various possibilities, but Willow puts her foot down. She picks up several bottles of something lavender-scented after she's read the labels.

"I've got to be sure there's nothing in this that'll affect the other ingredients, and you're going to need something with a fairly strong scent. Lavender's about the strongest one I know that'll have a neutral effect."

I knew I didn't like the sound of bathing in eye-of-newt essence.

"And why does it need to be scented? What's in it?"

"Various herbs, and, some … other … things. You'd probably be happier if you didn't know."

Well, at least she's honest.

When we get back, Willow spends the next couple of hours in the bathroom, mixing and concocting whatever it is, and when I go into the bedroom to tell her lunch is almost ready, I instantly regret it, as the smell hits me.

"I'll be up in five minutes," she promises. "It's just got to sit for a while then, before I can add it to the bubble bath."

Sure enough, five minutes later, Willow comes up to the dining room to join us for some salad. I can't help it, as soon as she walks into the room, I sniff the air, trying to detect some of the foul odour on her. She smiles when she sees me.

"Daisy fresh, that's me," she quips before sitting down. "Seriously, you came in at exactly the wrong time. The smell should fade now, so it won't be too bad by the time I go back to bottle it."

I decide to just trust her on that. I turn my attention to Wes, who came in just ahead of Willow. He's looking preoccupied, so I stick my nose in a bit further.

"How's it going then, Wes?"

"What? Oh, yes, the translation. I think I'm getting there. It's all pretty much as Giles translated it, except for one thing, and that could be very important. I want to check it again, and then I want to follow up one lead, but I really do think it's important."

"And?" I demand.

"And?" he parrots.

"And, what does it mean for Spike?"

"Ah, well, now, I've only done a first level translation of the consequences, but it seems you could be right. Spike needs our help."

I stop with my fork half way to my mouth. "Help with what?"

"I'd rather finish the translation first, Buffy," he pleads.

"Help with what?" He really should know me better than to tell me part of it without finishing the whole story.

"Well, if I'm right, the amulet is a way of focussing the power of a soul. It can be used for good or ill, depending on the soul behind it. The power available depends on the sacrifice being made. In Spike's case, he believed he was making the ultimate sacrifice, and from what you told me, he did it willingly. That would have maximised the effect. But, there's a … loophole. If those left behind wish it, there's a way to bring the wearer back."

"So Spike could come back," I whisper. It's exactly what I was hoping, but couldn't let myself believe.

"Well, it's not so simple as that. You see, it was assumed that the controller for the amulet would be in the hands of those others who were involved in the incident. And I have no idea what sort of form it could have taken, although it seems likely that it wasn't part of the package that Angel gave to you."

"So, we find this controller, and bring Spike back," I insist.

"Buffy, we have no idea where this controller is, or even what it looks like."

"We research, and we find it," I argue.

"Again, there's a problem. The bearer of the amulet was destined to remain in, well it translates best as 'the empty place'. It sounds like somewhere that's neither good nor bad, perhaps like the limbo belief of some Christians. It's where unbaptised children are believed to remain until the last day. There's no pain, but there's also no joy there."

"Still not seeing the problem," I warn.

"Yes, you see, there's a time limit. It's going to take me a while longer before I complete the detailed calculation. It depends on the alignment of various stars and so on, but my first level calculation tells me it's soon."

"And when time runs out?"

"Spike, well, he goes to Hell."


	6. Chapter 6 Return to LA

****

Chapter 6 - Return to LA

We got back a couple of hours ago. The apartment is quiet, and I assume Wes and Gina are already asleep. 

Not me. I can't. No, that's not true, my eyes are heavy, and I know that as soon as I let my guard down, I'll sleep. But I can't let that happen. I'm terrified that if I do, I'll forget about him again.

I know the bubble bath is supposed to stop that happening, and I had a good long soak before I came to bed, but I can't help it. I felt so close to him this past week. I know, it hasn't all been good, and a lot of it has been painful, but it was worth it to feel him in my life again. And what wouldn't I do to have him here, now, holding me, soothing away my terror?

I haven't really relaxed since the moment the plane took off. I just kept thinking about him, about what we've learned so far, trying to make sure that I wasn't forgetting, panicking when I realised I couldn't recall some minute detail.

I haven't slept well since Wes' news. Well, that's hardly surprising. Among all the bombshells I've had dropped on me, it's right up there with the big ones. Like the prophecy that said I was going to die. Or like the fact that I had to send Angel to hell. Or that the only way to save the world was to kill my little sister.

Sometimes I just hate whoever it is who decides what I've got to face next. When Wes said those words, so soon after the knowledge that Spike could come back, there was just this sense of normality. I mean, the Slayer doesn't get what she wants, what she needs. There's always this huge price to pay. 

The prospect of Spike spending eternity in hell makes my insides turn to ice-water. It's just so unfair - he died to save the world, so he deserves heaven, doesn't he? I mean, I did it too, I died to save the world, so I should know.

Wes didn't come up with much more before we left. To tell the truth, he's been itching to get back to W&H since Willow's bubble-magic, desperate to try it out. I'm just surprised he didn't go straight into the office tonight, although I'm certain he'll be up and out very early in the morning.

I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow. I don't have to go back to the office until Monday morning, but I'm going to go mad sitting around here waiting to hear something. I always hated this bit, the waiting, the not understanding. For the first time since I left the crater that Sunnydale became, I wish I could just go and patrol - dust a few vampires, decapitate a few demons. If this goes on much longer, maybe I'll do just that, even if it means breaking my agreement with Angel that LA was 'his town'.

My eyes are closing, and try as I might, I can't resist it any more. Still, I'm not going to sleep. I'm just going to lie here with my eyes closed, and think about him.

~~~~~

As soon as I open my eyes, I know I've slept. It's daylight. The sun is filtering through the curtains, and it's morning. I glance at my clock, and realise it's already late. I remember trying so desperately not to sleep last night. I go through an internal check list, to make sure I remember him. Spike. It's all there, the good and the bad. I say a little mental thank you to Willow.

She went home before the rest of us left, but she's going to keep in touch, and, as soon as I find an apartment of my own, she's going to come and visit. Thinking about that, I decide to get up and check the newspaper for apartments. Of course, then I realise that the delivery hasn't restarted since our time away, so I'm going to have to go out and get one. 

Gina's in the kitchen when I go through.

"Wes left early, huh?" I ask.

Gina nods, her expression resigned. "He was gone by five. He said to tell you that he won't be calling if he finds something, in case the call is overheard. This apartment should be safe, though. He made a point of having it 'spyproofed' when we moved in - because he still didn't trust everyone at W&H."

"Your husband's a very wise man."

"I know. He makes me feel … safe. And I never thought I'd feel that again."

I nod, remembering when I first met Gina. And I have to agree with her assessment. You do feel safe with Wes around. Not safe in the way that he could stop an apocalypse or anything, more like he's just this solid presence, someone you know you can rely on. A bit like I used to feel about Giles. Before … No, I'm not going to think about that right now. I think back to what Gina said.

"Don't tell me you married him just to feel safe," I tease, knowing nothing could be further from the truth.

She blushes under my direct gaze.

"No, that was more along the lines of being a gift with purchase." 

You wouldn't think someone with Gina's complexion would blush easily, but she does, and she looks so cute.

"Oh," Gina changes the subject. "This came for you while we were away. It was between some of our mail, but I didn't notice until I started opening it this morning."

She hands me an envelope. My hands shake slightly as I recognise the elaborate handwriting. It's from Angel. I tell myself not to be silly. Angel's the man I shared an apartment and a bed with until a short while ago. But it doesn't help, I still get this strong sense of foreboding from it. I open it quickly, desperate to have it proved harmless.

__

Buffy,

I hope you don't mind, but I thought you'd be interested. I know you've been staying with Wes, but you must be keen to find a place of your own. There's an apartment just come available in a W&H owned building, just a block from my own apartment. The rent's very fair, and it's a prestigious address. If you're interested, I've enclosed the details.

I've missed you so much since you left. I know you need some time on your own, and I'm willing to give you what you need. I have faith in your love for me. It held true through so much, that I can't believe that it would fail when we have finally overcome all the obstacles that kept us apart.

But, I won't pressure you. Have the time you need, and know that I'll be here when you're ready.

All my love, always,

Angel.

I feel almost sick as I read the note. I thought I'd been clear when I spoke to him. I thought he'd understood. I didn't have any doubts then, and I've even less reason to doubt my decision now. 

I'm torn between sadness and blazing anger. Sure, I'm sad that he's still hoping where there isn't any hope. But more than that, I'm furious that he thinks he knows me better than I do. It makes me feel that he's treating me like a child again. Like a sixteen-year-old who doesn't know what she really wants. Like when he left me 'for my own good'.

Gina's been looking at me while I read the note, and then watching my reaction. I don't trust myself to speak, so I just hand her the note. When she finishes reading, she reaches out her hand to me. 

"What're you going to do?"

"About the note? I don't know. I really want to just ignore it. There's no way I'm going to go and live in a W&H apartment, and definitely not one so close to him. And where does he get off trying to outguess my feelings?"

"It's worrying, though."

I consider what she means.

"You think he's trying to make sure I don't start finding out about Spike, don't you? The whole 'living in a company apartment' thing?"

"Well, if he knows about the memory spell, he could be worried that you remembered something. And he could want you where he can keep an eye on you."

"It's possible," I admit. I don't want to consider the fact that he's been involved in all this, but it's a possibility I can't afford to overlook. It just makes me feel so … stupid, and used.

I shake my head. "I'll have to think about the note, but one thing I don't have to think about is the need to find my own apartment. I was going to go out and pick up a newspaper, check out the ads. Anything you want while I'm out?"

"Well, we're kinda low on milk," she offers. "I need to go to the market, but I'd like to have a long, lazy morning first."

"Fine, I'll get some milk, and then we can go to the market later. Anything else for now?"

She grins at me.

"Well, I've got this notion for doughnuts. Jelly ones, I think."

I smile back. At times like this, sugar is my friend.

"Milk and doughnuts coming up, then."

I try to put Angel and the note out of my mind as I get what we need, but I can't. It's just like Angel on so many levels. Even if he's completely innocent of whatever's going on with Spike, he would still want me close. It was only the risk of losing his soul that kept him away from me before. He told me as much. And I certainly didn't get any spidey-sense tingle when we were together. I didn't have any suspicion that he was plotting something. But then, with the resources of W&H at his disposal, he's capable of just about anything.

I get back to the apartment to the smell of fresh coffee. I join Gina in the kitchen, placing a box of assorted doughnuts on the table. We spend a while just pigging out on sugar, and laughing, both of us pretending there's nothing going wrong.

When I've washed the sugar from my fingers, I start to look through the ads. I'm just about to give up when I see one which causes me to smile. It's only five minutes from where I am now, and I'm pretty sure I even know the building. It's close to my office, and a long way from Angel. It's got three bedrooms, and that's even better. I make a note of the number, then pass the paper to Gina.

She nods as she reads it.

"It looks great," she admits. "But am I selfish to approve mainly because it's so close to here?"

"No, of course not. Unless I'm being selfish for the same reason?"

"I'll call first thing in the morning," I promise. "Even if it's gone, I'll see if there's anything else around here. I've decided this is definitely a good neighbourhood."

~~~~~

****

When Wes comes home later, he has no news. He's found some corroboration, but that's all. The bad news is that he's also found a problem around the time-scale. 

He and Willow worked out we had five weeks until the alignment which would consign Spike to Hell, but now it turns out it's not so simple. Apparently, among those who wrote about the amulet, there were a number of dialects. And guess what? There were four separate stars which all had the same name, depending on the dialect. They all come into alignment within the next few months, but one of them is due in just over two weeks from now. He needs to analyse the whole text with a fine-tooth comb to work out which dialect was being used, and therefore which star it refers to.

~~~~~

I dreamt of Spike last night. I can't remember the detail, but I woke this morning feeling that strange mixture of happiness and loss that sometimes follows an especially happy dream. I get up and get ready for work, and my impatience at not knowing how to help Spike is tempered by the afterglow of the dream. It's almost as if he's done it on purpose, giving me something to keep me from tearing my hair out.

I manage to make some time in my calendar to go and see the apartment at noon. It looks to be exactly what I want, even if it's a little more expensive than I'd been thinking about. And it's twice the rent of the one Angel 'offered' me. Still, business is good, and I can afford it, so I agree on the spot. The agent offers to draw up the paperwork and have it ready for signing by the end of the day.

I go back to the office feeling better than ever. I know it's not actually doing anything to help Spike, but it's made me feel better to find myself somewhere to live that's just for me. 

Gina's pleased when I tell her that everything's settled. We're chatting about furnishings when Wes eventually comes in.

He looks tired. His skin seems a little yellow, and he has dark shadows under his eyes. I'm desperate to hear if he's found anything, but I know I'm intruding, so I get up and go into the kitchen to start dinner. That's the one down side of living with them – the fact that they don't get to be alone as much as they should. Still, it won't be for much longer.

I was so disappointed last night when he said he'd not found anything, although he was pretty sure he knew where to look. 

Gina comes in a while later, and tells me to go and speak to Wes. 

I go towards Wes' room, and my heart's in my mouth.

"Buffy," he acknowledges as I enter.

"What is it? What did you find?"

"Oh, more corroboration, mainly. There's not too much new information yet. What I have found is the original intention behind giving Angel the amulet."

"I thought we knew that. It was to help defeat the First."

"Well, no. That's what happened, but only because you changed the rules."

"Me? What did I do?"

"You chose Spike as your champion."

I make the logical jump to what had been intended.

"They thought Angel would be my champion."

"Exactly."

"But, surely that wouldn't have made any difference?"

"Well, someone thinks it would. Two differences to be exact. Firstly, the plan wasn't to defeat the First, more to stall it. I'm still not sure of the exact details, and without knowing who was behind it, I'm not sure I'll ever make sense of it. The other part of the plan was to control Angel."

"How?"

"Again, the details aren't too clear, but it has to do with the controller. When it's used to bring back the bearer of the amulet, it's possible to bind the soul to the will of whoever has the controller. That was the key part of the plan. Someone, and I assume it was one of the Senior Partners, wanted to have Angel in charge of W&H, but wanted to completely control him."

Ok, the controlling Angel thing is too much for me to take in right now.

"Why was the result different because I chose Spike?"

"As far as I can tell, it's largely because of their souls. Angel's had his for a long time. And during that time, he's done a number of things that, well, he shouldn't be too proud of. Spike hadn't had his for long, and apart from when he was under the control of the First, I'd imagine he'd been, well, behaving himself."

"So, Spike's soul was, what, clean? Is that what you're saying? And Angel's wasn't?"

"Putting it simply, yes. The power generated by Spike's soul was enough to seal the Hellmouth. That wasn't expected."

"Ok. So, why hasn't whoever-it-is used the controller to bring back Spike?"

"I assume it's because there's no reason to do it. There might even be an element of revenge involved. He did wreck the plan."

"But, that would mean that Angel's ok? He wouldn't be part of a plan to control himself, would he?"

"No, but it doesn't mean he doesn't know something. I did find traces of information that're hidden behind a higher security clearance than I knew existed. That could mean Angel, or it could go straight to a Senior Partner."

"So, could you do with someone who's into major mojo who can also do a mean bit of hacking?"

"Willow?"

"Yeah. I signed the paperwork after work today. I move into my new apartment next week, and I'm going to ask her to visit."

"It'll be risky, but I haven't got any better idea."


	7. Chapter 7 Moving In and a Spot of Hacki...

__

Long time, no update, I know. I've had a mixture of family responsibilities, and software problems which have taken up a lot of time lately. I hope I'm back to updating more regularly now.

I'd just like to thank everyone who's been reviewing this fic. Your encouragement means a lot, and I hope you continue to enjoy this story.

****

Chapter 7 - Moving In and a Spot of Hacking

Willow got here earlier, and helped me move into my apartment. Well, when I say helped me move in, we carried the things I had at Wes and Gina's from the car. Now, I'm just waiting for some furniture to be delivered, and I can make it feel more like home.

Willow's in the kitchen. She's setting up some spells she'll need for tonight. She's not wasting any time, and I'm just so grateful. This uncertainty about the timing of things is so hard to take, and the first of the supposed deadlines is uncomfortably close. 

Unfortunately, the computer system which holds the most confidential of W&H information isn't connected to anything outside of the building, so she's going to have to go in there. Wes has managed to get her clearance under an assumed name as a potential assistant for him, with the cover story that she can't get there before this evening. It's going to be hard enough without having anyone looking over their shoulders, and Wes is determined that he doesn't want anyone getting hurt if he can help it.

The bad news is that I'm staying here. I want to go with them, but I've been persuaded that it'll only add to the danger. My face is known to enough people there that it's just an added risk. Gina's offered to come over and help me while they're gone, but the truth is she wants the company as much as I do.

The first of the deliveries arrives, and I'm pulled from my thoughts by the need to direct that. Fortunately, it's the beds - two of them to start with, so Willow and I should be comfortable tonight. I set myself to doing the small amount of assembly that's necessary, then make up the beds. By the time I've finished, Wes and Gina arrive. We all go into the kitchen, where Willow's clearing up.

"You ready?" Wes asks.

"Just about," Willow answers. "I've covered as many possibilities as I can think of, but until I know what we might need, it's hard. Still, I've got several things ready, some to clear our eyes, some to help us avoid any magickal traps there might be, and a couple of things for defensive purposes."

"Good."

"So," he continues, turning towards me. "We're going in when most people have gone home for the night. That doesn't mean the building will be deserted by any means. There's any number of people, especially in the higher echelons, who work very late, or even prefer to work overnight. Angel in particular would more than likely be in the building, and he's the one person we can't afford to meet. He'd recognise Willow and that'd give away the whole thing."

"So, what happens if you meet Angel?" I ask.

"Well, that's the biggest problem, and I've set up something to, hopefully, get him out of the building. I've got a contact in Orange County who's been watching a nest of Haggar demons for a couple of weeks. They've been in a dormant period so far, but he reckons they're about to become active. He's going to give Angel a tip off. I'm hoping he'll feel it's a big enough deal to get involved personally. Certainly, a nest of Haggar demons can do a whole lot of killing when they come out of hibernation."

"Won't he want you to be there too?" I ask.

"There was a time he would have, but not now. Now that there's Gina, he's said more than once that I should get out of the front line a bit. And it's not as if he hasn't got others to call on if he needs backup."

Wes pauses then, almost as if he's puzzling over something, but then continues. "If he asks, it'll be easy enough to claim that Gina's not feeling too well, and that I might get called home at short notice."

"Sounds like we've done what we can before we get into the building," Willow says, thoughtfully. "What happens once we're inside?"

"Well, I suggest we use my office initially. If we can't get anywhere from there, we might have to try Angel's office, but I'm hoping it won't come to that."

The two of them go into some details of computer systems that are quite simply over my head, so I'm relieved when another delivery arrives. 

By the time I've got that dealt with, they're ready to leave.

Gina and I set to work unpacking and arranging things, and I'm amazed at how quickly the place starts to look like home. When we've done as much as we can, we go into the kitchen and make some coffee. As we sit and drink it, both of us are thinking about Wes and Willow. It's going to be a long evening.

Gina gets up after a while, and starts pulling out some groceries she brought with her. There's chicken, and potatoes, carrots and beans, as well as a number of small packages.

"What're you doing?" I ask.

"Thought I'd put a casserole together. That way it should be good whenever they get back, and it'll help me to keep from worrying too much. Want to help?"

"You sure you want me helping?" I ask. "You know how good I am at cooking."

"You can chop vegetables, peel potatoes, that sort of thing."

I agree, and we set to work in companionable silence. When the dish is in the oven, we go into the living room and switch on the TV. It's mindless, and I'm relieved to note that Gina falls asleep quite quickly. 

There's a commercial on, one I haven't seen before, and the actor has bleached blonde hair. It's all I need to switch my mind onto thoughts of Spike. 

I've no memories of dreaming of Spike over the past week, although a couple of mornings I've wakened with a strange feeling of mixed well being and loss. I wish I could talk to him, wish he could help us to find what we need to bring him back. I'm terrified by the prospect of losing him forever. I smile at those words as they come into my mind. They're such a contrast to how I once felt about him, when I'd have done almost anything for him to leave, but he never did. 

I can feel my eyes closing, and I know I'm going to drift off to sleep. The last thing I feel is guilt that my friends are in danger, and I'm falling asleep. It doesn't seem right. I'm the Slayer. I'm the one who's supposed to risk her life for others. 

And then I hear his voice. "It's ok, Pet. They need to do this. You'll get your chance to do your bit."

I open my eyes, but there's no one there. They start to close again, and I let them, desperate to see him, but he's not there.

"Tell me what I need to do," I beg him.

"You'll know when it's time, Pet. I can't tell you what I know, and I don't have all the details anyway. I just know that there's something important in that computer system."

"Let me see you," I ask.

"Sorry, Pet. Got to go," he answers, his voice fading as he speaks.

I come awake to a persistent dinging noise, and I jump up, confused by the unfamiliar sound. It takes me a second or two to realise it's the timer on the oven that we set for a couple of hours.

I go into the kitchen, and find Gina already there, switching off the timer, and opening the oven.

"How's it doing?" I ask.

"It's ok, but it'll take a while more."

"No sign of them?"

"No, not yet. Wes said they'd be at least a couple of hours. It depends how difficult Willow finds the system."

I nod. I remember from the past. Sometimes she found it so easy to hack into a system, and sometimes, it took days. And this time, we don't have days.

Gina and I return to the living room, and I'm relieved to see there's a movie on. We settle down to watch it, but I swear that if it wasn't already familiar, I'd never be able to follow the plot. I'm tense, waiting for them to come back, starting at every unfamiliar noise, which, of course, in a new apartment means just about everything.

The ending credits of the film are rolling when I hear the door opening. I jump up, and we both run to meet them. They're looking happy, so I assume it went well. Gina throws her arms around Wes, and I follow Willow, but to my surprise, Willow goes into the bedroom where she left her things earlier. She picks up her laptop, takes it into the living room, and boots it up. She pulls a CD from her pocket, and puts it into the drive. Wes and Gina join us a moment later.

Willow's excited, her face and voice animated in the way it always is when she's achieved something. "The system in Wes' office was a dead loss. It turns out, there's a system which Angel has access to, but there doesn't seem to be access from anywhere else, that we know of at least. And it's well protected, as is Angel's office. I assume the system in his office is something he activates when he leaves, or maybe it activates on its own, but I'm glad I took some pre-prepared mojo with me. I was able to get us both in, and hopefully leave it looking as if it hadn't been tampered with. Then, there was the computer system. It was protected too, and by both conventional and magickal means. The first level of security was Angel's standard log in. It was password protected, but that was easy. His password's 'Buffy' by the way. That only gave us access to things we had seen on Wes' log in. Then we found a link to another system, and when I tried to use that, it activated some sort of spell. It was like something was just sucking the life out of us. It could've been pretty hairy if I hadn't erected a barrier fast. The cool thing is, it wouldn't cause Angel any harm, because, hey, already dead. That makes me think it might even be triggered every time someone tries to access that link, because we hadn't done anything up till then that could have alerted the system to the fact that we weren't entitled to have access."

Gina's looking pale now, and I'm feeling guilty. For Will and me to be facing danger like that, well, it's what we've been doing for so long, it just seems natural. And, even knowing that it's been part of Wes' life for a long time, it's still hard for me to imagine just how Gina must be feeling right now. Wes' arm tightens around Gina, but Willow doesn't seem to have noticed.

"Then, there was the second log in," she continues. "Now, that was tough. Multiple passwords, and some sort of convoluted set up that I just can't see Angel having the patience for. It took a long time to get into the system, and we didn't have time to read what we found, so I just copied all the files that seemed to be relevant."

We all crowd round the screen, trying to get a good view, but it's hard when you're looking at it from an angle. Willow scans through the files, opening a few, and reading her way through them. 

"It's going to take a while," she apologises. "These files are huge, and some of them aren't in English. I'll copy off the disc, and let Wes have a copy to take home. That way, we can both work on it."

As Willow copies the disc, Gina suggests we eat. We all adjourn to the kitchen to pick up plates which we carry into the living room. I've got chairs there, but no table yet, so we balance our plates on our laps.

"So, Angel took the bait, then?" I ask.

"Yeah," replies Wes, "We cut it fine, though. As we pulled out of the car park, Angel's car pulled up. Willow was hiding under a blanket so he wouldn't see her."

"So, what are you going to do?" Gina demands, and I know it's got nothing to do with the quest for information about Spike.

Wes looks confused for a second, then he realises what she's talking about.

"You mean am I going to go on working for W&H?"

"Well, you always said that you'd work there while it seemed to be in your interests to do so. When you find internal systems that could kill you, I'd have thought that could be considered as no longer in your interests."

I'm surprised, because I hadn't considered the possibility that he'd want to leave W&H, but then again, I'm not surprised either. Gina's coped with the dangers inherent in Wes' job, but those so far have been external. The city is full of demons, and it's his job to help keep them under control. If the danger comes from within the company, that's another matter.

"Well, I wasn't planning on leaving immediately," he says, quietly. He's obviously not comfortable talking about it in front of Willow and me, so I suggest that we take the dirty dishes into the kitchen.

Once there, we try not to listen, but there's no door between the two rooms, so we have to settle for being noisy while loading the dishwasher and making some coffee. 

So now, on top of everything else, I'm feeling guilty. Well, I already was when I saw Gina's reaction earlier. I've dragged Wes and Gina into this whole thing, and as a result, Wes is in danger. I've always felt guilty about doing that to my friends - Willow and Xander - but at least they could make their own decisions. Gina's baby hasn't had any say in this, and the idea that his or her father might be hurt … 

I make up my mind to carry on with this alone. Well, if Willow's willing to help, that's fine, but, I want Wes out of it.

When the coffee's ready, we don't have any more reason to stay away, so we go back. It's obvious that the discussion's not over, and I feel another wave of guilt as it seems as if they've argued about it. I've never heard them arguing before. In fact, there's something profoundly wrong about knowing that they've disagreed enough to cause the unhappiness I see etched on their faces.

"Ok, Wes," I start. I might as well get it sorted out as soon as I can. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me so far, but that's it. If there's any danger in all this, then it's up to me to do whatever needs to be done. You can't take any more risks."

"Buffy," he replies, coldly, "Whether or not I take risks is my decision. Agreeing to work for W&H in the first place was a calculated risk. So far, it's been a risk worth taking, as the good I've been able to do has far outweighed any danger. This is the first time I've felt in any way threatened by W&H itself, and I've got to decide whether the risk has become unacceptable. I will make that decision, and I will take into account Gina's wishes, and the needs of our child. In the meantime, I will be going into the office as usual in the morning, and I will spend some time gauging the potential danger of continuing to work there. I will also take the disc Willow copied for me, and I'll work on understanding what was in those files. This isn't just about Spike now. The company I work for is doing something that I don't understand, but which I believe I would find it very hard to support. Angel may be involved, but if he isn't, he may be in some danger too. And that's without taking account of the overall aim of whatever it is that's going on. It may not be an actual apocalypse, but I'm pretty sure it's not a picnic that's being planned."

He's right, I know that, but it doesn't make me feel any less guilty. Gina doesn't even sip her coffee, and Wes drinks his quickly, and without tasting it, before he gets up and asks Gina if she's ready to go home.

When we're alone, Willow expresses her surprise.

"Gina's not happy, is she?"

"No, and she's right not to be happy. She didn't sign on for this. She hasn't ever volunteered to be one of the Scoobies. I know you and Xander didn't exactly have full disclosure before you got involved either, but you could've walked away. She can't, because it's Wes who's taking the risks. She lost so much before, and I don't think she'd survive if she lost Wes now. I don't know how she pulled herself together enough to love again after …" I pause. I remember the Gina I first met, someone who'd hidden so deeply inside herself that I didn't think she'd ever completely recover.

"But she did it, she survived, and she fell in love with Wes, and that's because she's one of the strongest people I've ever met."

"You did it too," Willow says quietly. "And so did I. You sent Angel to Hell, but you still tried to love after that. I thought my life was over when Tara was killed, and in some ways it was, but I started over again. Gina's strong, I get that. But it's got to be Wes' decision. If she doesn't let him decide for himself, it's going to ruin the relationship."

When did Willow get to be so wise? Somewhere during all that we faced in Sunnydale, and then afterwards, she's learned things you don't learn from books or online. It's something I know too, on a professional level, but it seems kind of odd mixing it with slayage. I'm used to being the one who makes the decisions, and feeling responsible for everyone else.

Willow promises me a copy of the disc so I can take it into the office. I'm hoping that I'll be able to spend time between clients helping with the research. And I just hope they've got what Spike said was important in there somewhere.

We say goodnight and go towards our bedrooms. My first night in my apartment. I should be happy, and I am, but it's not the sort of happiness it should be. Now, if Spike was here with me, and there wasn't a cloud hanging over him … That's what dreams are made of.


	8. Chapter 8 Unexpected Contact

****

Chapter 8 - Unexpected Contact

I found it. I was having a look through the files on the disc while I ate a sandwich at my desk, and I found it. It's a picture, a copy of an engraving of the amulet, and beside it is a picture of the controller. Of course, it doesn't say 'controller' next to it, it wouldn't be that easy. The language doesn't even use an alphabet I've seen before, but hey, pictures, the universal language!

I reckoned that Willow and Wes, being the types of people they are, they'd start at the beginning. So, I started at the end. Ok, it made sense to me.

The amulet is pretty much the way I remember it. Of course, when I picture it, it's around Spike's neck, while here, it's on its own. The controller, or at least what I think is the controller, looks like a bracelet. It's made of links of what's probably metal, and it's got a disc on it that looks like a miniature version of the amulet. It seems to be attached like a watch would be to its bracelet. There's a drawing of it on its own, and then there's another where it's on a human hand. The funny thing is, it's not around the wrist, but wrapped around the hand, kinda like those Goa'uld things on Stargate.

I'm still not sure about calling Wes at work, so I call home instead. Willow answers after more of a delay than I expected.

"Hey, Will, how's it going?"

"Good, I've been research-gal since you left this morning. I've got some good information, mainly on the history of the thing, but nothing directly usable yet."

"Have you checked the last file on the list?"

"Well, no, I've been getting through the files as fast as I can, but …"

"Do it," I demand, taking control in my enthusiasm to get her to see what I've seen.

Fortunately, Willow knows better than to ask why, and a moment later, she's back.

"That's it, isn't it? And the rest of it too."

We agreed we'd be careful on the phone, so not using the key words. Willow said she'd checked out my phone and it was ok, but we decided not to take any chances.

"Yeah, I thought it might be. I wondered if it might not be, you know, like an instruction manual? Maybe with detailed instructions?"

"It's possible," she admits. "It looks kinda complicated, in a familiar sort of way."

I take that to mean it's one of the languages Wes has been working on lately.

"Now, all we've got to do is find one," I murmur quietly. 

"Yeah," she admits. As we talk, I continue scrolling down the page. There's another drawing further down, like a more detailed drawing of the back of the controller. I say the back, because I assume the copy of the amulet is at the front. This just shows the chain links, which are really quite ornate in their own right. Each strand seems to have been plaited from seven finer strands, and the whole thing is a work of art. A work of art that looks irritatingly familiar.

"Willow," I tell her, "I've seen it."

"What? The rest of it? Where?"

"Yeah. The rest. And I can't remember. I'm sure it was recently, but I don't know. Someone was wearing something just like it."

"Angel?" 

"No, that I'd remember. He couldn't have had something like that without me noticing it. I just need to remember where I've seen it."

"Ok, Buffy, I'll see what I can do about the instructions, and you try and think about where you've seen it."

"Yeah, thanks, I will."

I put the phone down, and check the time. My next appointment's due very soon, so I don't have long. I give some thought to a logical way to remember, and then realise just how un-Buffy-like that sounds. But this is for Spike, and it's important - the most important thing I've done since Sunnydale.

If I've seen it on someone's wrist, it must be someone I've seen recently. So, I start to make a list of everyone I've seen in the past week, then go gradually further back. Of course, if it's someone I've only seen in passing, then I'm stuck. But something tells me it's someone I know, or at least someone I'd recognise immediately. I continue with my list until my appointment arrives.

~~~~~

Typically, I didn't have another idle moment until the end of the day. Instead of staying at my desk, I go home, stopping only to pick up some necessities. Once there, I quickly find Willow scribbling notes as she pores over her laptop.

"Find anything?" I ask.

"A bit, but I think the detail's going to have to wait until we can show Wes. He's the expert in all these ancient languages, I only get the obvious bits. How about you?"

I flop into a chair. "Nope. Not much. I started making a list of everyone I've seen recently, hoping that the name would mean something when I wrote it down, but so far, no good. I've been through my appointment books, and my calendar, but nothing seems right."

"It's pretty unusual," Willow muses. "I think it'd be the sort of thing I'd remember. Funny you only saw the back, though."

"Well, probably not. The disc's probably the heaviest part of the chain, so it'd tend to drop to the underside of the wrist. And that's not taking into account that if the person who's wearing it is involved in all this, then they wouldn't want me to see it. They wouldn't think I'd recognise the chain, but the disc is pretty obvious."

"Not necessarily," Willow disagrees. "Not if they thought the memory spell was intact. It seems like the fact that you were there at the end gave you some immunity to the spell, but that might not have been obvious." She pauses, then looks up from the screen.

"Did you ever tell Angel about Spike? I mean, anything in passing. I know the spell made it hard, so you had to concentrate to remember him, but did you ever talk about him?"

I laugh at the idea. Talking to Angel about Spike - not what I'd call fun. I do remember telling him what happened in Sunnydale right after we left the crater. He was just so dismissive of Spike and what he did that he made me angry. I didn't speak to him for a while after that, and when we did talk after that, neither of us mentioned Spike if we could help it. 

"No, I didn't," I explain. "I thought it was just jealousy, but talking about Spike to Angel was the quickest way I knew of making Angel go all growly."

"And then, after you moved to LA, you weren't inclined to talk about him anyway," Willow remembers. "Ok, but let's get back to your list. Can I have a look?"

I go into my purse, and pull out the piece of paper.

"The first names, above the line, they're work-related - people I saw at my office. Below the line is everyone else."

"You don't have much of a social life, do you?"

I smile ruefully at her. "I didn't socialise much when I was setting up the business, and then, when Angel and I got together, I just mixed with his friends. Since we broke up, the only one of them I've seen is Wes."

Willow tries reading the list to me, hoping that hearing the name will spark some memory. When she reaches the end of the list I shrug. "Sorry, Will, none of them does anything."

"And that's everyone you've seen?"

"Short of trying to come up with names for anyone I've passed in the street, yeah, that's it. The only other person I've seen recently is Spike, and that's been in my dreams."

All it takes is the merest mention of his name, and he's there again, in my mind, large as life, smiling at me, that soft, gentle smile he tried to pretend he didn't have.

"He's been trying to help," I remember suddenly.

Willow looks up, waiting for an explanation.

"When you were gone last night, he told me you needed to do what you were doing, and that I'd get my chance. And I think I've been dreaming about him lately too. Can't remember anything when I waken, but, you know the sort of dream, where you just know that everything was perfect, but you can't remember it all?"

Willow nods.

"I think I've been dreaming about him, about us being together."

"Better than the other dreams, then," Willow comments.

"Yeah. The first ones I had, about Spike burning … Wait. That's it."

Now she looks confused. I pull the laptop round so I can see the screen better, almost knocking it off her lap. I scroll down to the picture, and look at it again. I don't know whether to be elated or depressed. I know exactly whose wrist the controller was on. The only problem is, she's dead.

"Lilah," I mutter.

"Lilah? But she's …"

"Dead, but still walking as far as we know."

"And you saw her in a dream."

My turn to nod. "And she was wearing the controller."

"Makes sense, I suppose," Willow says. "She was controlled by the senior partners, and her contract wasn't terminated by anything as mundane as her death."

"So, how do we find it?"

"I don't know. She could, quite literally, be anywhere, but my best guess would be the Wolfram and Hart building."

"And we do this without Wes."

Willow's about to argue, but I hold up my hand.

"Look, Gina's already scared half to death at what's going on after last night. If we get Wes involved in looking for Lilah on top of that, well, let's just say, Lilah's the one name that always makes Gina nervous. She knows about what went on between Wes and her, probably more than I do. I heard most of it from Angel, because Wes just doesn't talk too much about that time."

"So, if we don't get Wes involved, then how do we get access to the W&H building?"

"Well, he's not the only department head we know, there's Gunn, and …"

"Fred!" Willow interrupts. "I met her when I returned Angel's soul, and we kept in touch a bit, you know, emails and so on."

"I thought about her too, but she's loyal to Angel. If he's involved …"

"I think she'll be ok," Willow counters. "She was loyal to Angel, and she probably still is, up to a point, but she's her own person these days. And if you combine her science with my magic, you've got a pretty unbeatable combination."

"How can we be sure we can trust her?"

"We can't, but our options are pretty limited. I don't know Gunn that well, but apart from getting us into the building, I'm not sure what else he could actually do for us. We're trying to find an animated dead person, and she's not a vampire, or a zombie, or anything else we know about. And do you really think he's more likely to be trustworthy than Fred?"

It's true. Of all of the old AI team, Gunn's the one with the biggest personal agenda. And I can't see saving Spike from Hell as being one of his priorities. 

I consider the possibility that Willow might actually know Fred better than I do. I've met her, of course, but we didn't hit it off, exactly. Well, it wasn't even as clear as that. I got the impression that she thought I wasn't quite good enough for Angel, and I know from Wes that there was a bit of Angel-worship going on when he first rescued her from Pylea.

"Ok, how do we do this?" I ask.

"Well, unless you've got a better idea, I'll just email her, and tell her I'm in LA. I'll see if I can get her to meet me for coffee and a chat, and I'll sound her out."

She must see just how nervous I am about this.

"It's ok," she adds. "I won't say anything until I'm pretty sure she's not involved. I can probably rig up enough of a charged atmosphere around us that I can pretty much monitor whether she's lying. Like a magickal lie detector."

"Remember that time when Spike got shot with the tracer?" I remind her. "It took you days to get your hair back to normal after you ionised the atmosphere to kill the signal from that thing."

Still, it stopped the Initiative from getting Spike back, so it was a good thing. I just didn't realise how good then.

"I've got it under control now," she promises, a hint of irritation in her voice.

"Ok, Will," I concede. "Try it, but be careful."

Willow starts to write her email, while I go and start putting together something to eat. Salad, cold meat (ready cooked), and ice cream for after. Quick, nutritious, and even I can't get it wrong.

We're just finishing the last of the ice cream when Wes arrives. I offer to make coffee, but he declines, telling me it's a flying visit.

We spend a few moments comparing notes, and it's clear that Wes' information deals primarily with the history of the amulet. I show him what I've found, and he glances at the accompanying text.

"Yes, this would appear to be what amounts to an instruction manual, although, needless to say, it's not as simple as 'plug and play'. I'll have a look at home and try to do a full translation tonight. Of course, that doesn't help us with finding the controller. Any ideas?"

"No," I say, almost too quickly, before Willow can answer. 

Wes looks at me suspiciously, sensing how abnormal my reaction is, so I quickly add, "It's just so frustrating. Without that, we can't do anything."

He seems to accept that.

"So, no repercussions at work from what happened last night?"

"Not that I'm aware of," he replies. "Of course, unless I'm personally implicated, there's no reason why I should be. There did seem to be some abnormal activity around Gunn's office, but then it's hard to say what's actually abnormal."

"I thought I'd try to meet up with Fred while I'm here," Willow says.

I'm surprised, but then, he could find out anyway so it's probably best to tell him up front.

"She'd like that, I think," he replies. "You're not going to involve her in this, are you?"

"Why, don't you trust her?" I ask. I can't help myself.

"Fred? She's a person of extremely high integrity. I would trust her to help righting any injustice, but I'm not sure she'd see the current situation as an injustice. More to the point, I'm not sure that she could add anything, and the fewer people who know about what we're doing, the safer we'll all be."

"Oh, ok," Willow answers.

I don't like lying to Wes, but I don't want him digging himself in deeper with Gina either.

Wes stands then, getting ready to go. I want to talk to him, but I don't know what to say, so I follow him out to the door.

"You ok?" I manage, as he pulls the door open.

"Yes, Buffy, I'm fine. And so is Gina. She'll probably call you later, or tomorrow if she's tired. Don't worry about us, and try not to worry about Spike. We'll find a way to bring him back, if only so I can experience for myself the person who irritates both Angel and Giles so much."

I can only smile at that. He sounds sure, and I'm grateful. I keep trying to reassure myself that we'll do what we have to do, but sometimes it feels like it has an edge of desperation - like if I think for one moment that we might fail, then Spike will be consigned to Hell for all eternity.

"Thanks," I murmur. He smiles back, before stooping to kiss my cheek. Not something he does often, I think it's an English thing, something he saves for when it's really needed.

When he's gone, I go back to the living room to find Willow busy googling. I go to make the coffee I didn't make earlier, and when I return, Willow's scribbling furiously. It seems to be a list of books - reference materials used on a site she's found. I perch on the arm of her chair, and look at the site. It certainly looks to be full of useful information about the various animated dead that share our world.

"Where're you going to get those?" I ask, pointing at the list.

"Don't know. I thought I'd try Giles, and there're a couple of rare bookshops I know - some of them even do online ordering."

She glances at her watch, then grimaces. "Too late, or early, to call Giles, depending on your point of view. So, I'll check out the bookstores. Some even sell on the basis they'll take them back providing they're still in saleable condition. I've done that before - it can be fairly cost-effective."

I'm just about to comment on the fact that she's not a student any more, and I'm no longer an impoverished minimum-wage burger dispenser, but I'm interrupted by the phone.

It must be Gina. I pick up the phone, but it's not Gina's voice that answers my 'hello'. It's Angel's.


	9. Chapter 9 Motivated By Envy

****

Chapter 9 – Motivated By Envy

An hour later, I'm sitting in a coffee bar waiting. I'm wondering what it is he wants to tell me about. All I know is it's something he thinks I should know about, and he doesn't want to talk about it over the phone. And no, it won't wait. I sip my mocha, and wonder how long he's going to be, when I see him standing in the doorway, eclipsing any view of outside. He's bigger than I remember – has it really been such a short time since I saw him? He spots me, and his expression changes, from worry to – is that relief? I'm sure it is, and with that knowledge comes another fact. He wasn't sure I'd come.

He sits beside me, and I ask if he's going to have anything.

"No, I'm not good with caffeine," he says, as if we hadn't had this same conversation a dozen times before.

"They do decaffeinated," I remind him. He shrugs.

"Never saw the point of that."

I take a deep breath, and I'm about to ask him why he called, when he speaks again.

"It's good to see you. I've … missed you."

"Look, Angel, I thought there was something important happening, and if there isn't, then it's not doing either of us any favours being here together."

"There is … something important. I just had to say it. I miss you. I wish you would come home, but I know you need time."

"Angel, it's not time I need, I told you that. Us, we, we just weren't working. Not for me. I'm sorry, but I can't change it. And, if you'll only think about it, you'll realise you don't love me either. You love sixteen-year-old Buffy, the new Slayer, all innocent and vulnerable. You're in love with someone who doesn't exist any more. And I'm not going to talk about this any more. So, if there's something else you want to say, say it, because if there isn't, I'm leaving."

He puts a hand on my arm. It's gentle, and it's not threatening, but it still seems intrusive.

"Ok, Buffy, I'll get to that part. Remember Sunnydale? The First? I think someone's trying to undo what you did there – someone is planning on reversing everything, opening up the Sunnydale Hellmouth, maybe even taking the power from all the extra slayers."

Ok, that was worth the call, I admit it.

"What makes you say that?"

"You know the amulet that did it all? Destroyed the Hellmouth?"

I make a show of having to think carefully. I don't know what he's expecting, but I'm trying to be cautious.

"Yes, what about it?" I note that, yet again, the man who wore the amulet doesn't get a mention.

"Well, the records on the amulet are kept at Wolfram and Hart, and I've been informed that someone has accessed them."

"Oh." Well, what else can I say? Ok, yes, there is that.

"Who?"

"That's the thing. I, that is, my informant, doesn't know, and she doesn't understand why she doesn't know."

I try very hard not to breathe a sigh of relief at that. Wait a minute, what was that?

"Your informant?"

"Someone who looks after some things for me."

"Who?"

"I'd rather not say."

"You expect me to take this seriously, but you're not willing to tell me who's been whispering in your ear?"

He grins at that. "You sound jealous." His voice is almost a purr.

"I am not jealous. I just want to know who it is who thinks Sunnydale's about to be open for demon business again."

He pauses, and then I see the decision in his eyes.

"Lilah," he says, quietly, and he's waiting for my reaction. And it's so obvious what he thinks it's going to be that I can hardly control my irritation. He only told me her name because he thinks that's going to fire my jealousy.

"She's dead," I remind him, keeping my voice level, and doing my best to keep my irritation under control, because if he can sense a raised pulse rate, he'll probably see it as proof of what he wants to think. But then, maybe that'd be better than the alternative.

"Yes, she's dead, but she's my contact with the aspects of Wolfram and Hart that I don't control. They only ceded the LA branch to me."

"And you believe her," I say, but it's obvious from my tone of voice that I can't understand why he'd believe her, even if she's partly right in the present situation.

"Look, I know she's not exactly on my side, but she's never steered me wrong. She's always got her own agenda, but if she's right, then it could be big trouble."

"Even if she's right about someone checking the records, it doesn't mean that's what they're planning on doing with the information. Maybe it's just intellectual curiosity."

"Those records are top secret. Officially, apart from the Senior Partners, and Lilah, no one else knows of their existence. And what else could it be? There's no other reason I can think of."

I don't sense a lie in what he says, but then, I can't help but think that in almost two hundred and sixty years, almost anyone could learn to lie convincingly.

My mind's going round in circles. Lilah. The exact person I want to find, and here's my opening. But, what if it's a set up? Maybe she knows who it was, and it's some sort of a trap. Then again, it might be the only chance we get, and Spike's running out of time.

"I want to meet her."

At first I wonder if he actually heard me.

"Lilah? Why?"

"I want to be able to watch her while she tells me that someone's going to re-open Sunnydale."

"I don't think she'll agree," he answers.

"Persuade her. I'm sure you're more than capable."

That last part is a measured risk. It's a carrot; half implying that I think he's got Lilah interested in him, and that, coupled with his perception of my jealousy should be the spur to make him try. At least, that's what I'm hoping. And since when did I use Angel's feelings for me as a weapon? Well, since it gives me a shot at getting Spike back.

"I'll ask, but I can't promise. If she agrees, it'll have to be somewhere in the W&H building. Her … contract keeps her limited in where she can go."

"Good enough," I tell him, draining my cup. "You've got my number, call me when you set it up."

And then I get up and walk towards the door. I know he's not following as I go outside, because, hey, I've got this sense where vampires are concerned. I walk to my car as my mind goes through the possibilities. And then there's the arrogance and pig-headedness of the man. Where does he get off thinking I'm jealous? How … ? 

And then I hear a scream, and I follow the sound into an alley. I can't see anything, and the sound's gone, but I can sense them. Vampires, two of them. I approach quietly, and I just know they're thinking they've got one each now. 

The attack, when it comes, is two-pronged and swift, but it's also a pretty dismal attempt. It takes me exactly ten seconds to stake the first of them, and less than half a minute after that to finish the second. It takes me longer to find their intended victim, who's fainted and lying in the darkest part of the alley. I wake her up, dust her down, and take her to her car with instructions to go straight home before I can return to my own car. When I do, I know he's close. I don't see him, but I know he's watching. Like he used to do when I was sixteen. So, I get into my car and drive home before I'm tempted to find him and hit him to show that I'm not that little girl any more.

When I get home, Willow tells me that she's set up to meet Fred in the morning. I respond with the information that Angel gave me. Willow's worried.

"I think she knows, Lilah knows," she says, a hint of fear in her eyes.

I shrug. "I don't know. It's possible, but right now, we don't have time to waste. If she knows, and it's a trap, well, I've managed to get out of traps before now."

"Ok," she murmurs. But it's the sort of ok that means it's not ok, but that she can't think of anything to dissuade me right now.

"See what you can find out from Fred tomorrow," I suggest, and Willow immediately brightens. She's always been like that, well, apart from during her dark phase. She's naturally timid, not the sort to choose to take risks, but the risks always seem more acceptable if she feels she's doing something about it.

"So, how was it, you know, otherwise? Seeing Angel?"

"He thinks I'm jealous of Lilah."

"You're not serious!"

"Wish I wasn't, but then, I think that's the only reason he agreed to try and set up a meeting. Unless he's involved in the trap too."

"I don't believe he'd try to hurt you."

"No, neither do I," I reply, and I mean it. He might do something that would hurt me, but I don't think he wouldn't do it consciously. Unless he thought it was for my own good, I remember bitterly.

I look at the time, and realise it's later than I thought. For the first time in a long time I wish I didn't have to go to work in the morning. Spending time on anything other than trying to get Spike back just feels like a waste, but there's no alternative. Regardless of whether or not I get him back, I'm still going to need a way to earn money, and I just can't afford to do anything to jeopardise the business. And, the truth is, that until I've got that controller, there's not much else I can do.

I look at Willow, and see the familiar dark shadows under her eyes. One advantage I've got, although I've never been sure whether it's just the colouring or something to do with Slayer powers – I don't get them the way she does.

"You're tired," I comment, gently.

"Yeah," she admits.

"So?"

"Ok," she laughs at me. "I'm going."

Sleep doesn't come easily. When I do sleep, I know, even in my sleep, that it's not restful.

And then he's there, with me. Spike. I'm so relieved that I feel my eyes fill with tears, and I pull him down onto the bed with me, needing to feel him close to me. We kiss, and with the inconsistency of a dream, we're soon naked and things are progressing very satisfactorily. Except, suddenly, the weight on my body increases, and I look up to see Angel's face, rather than Spike's. And he's grinning, and telling me he knew I still loved him. I'm trying to push him off, but it's as if my Slayer strength is gone, and there's no way I can move him. He doesn't seem to have noticed there's anything wrong, he's telling me we're meant to be together, that it's our destiny.

Panic wells within me, because this isn't right. I don't love him, and I don't want him here in my bed. His hands feel rough, almost violent, and I'm pinned in place. I try to scream, but he kisses me and the sound is smothered by a mouth which seems totally alien to me.

And then I know we're not alone. There's someone else in the room, and I wrench my head around to see, and it's Lilah, openly wearing the controller, waving it at me and laughing at my inability to do anything about it.

"This is your future," she's taunting. "Better get used to it. You enjoyed it once, maybe you can again."

And then she's laughing again, and she takes the controller from her wrist and places it on the floor. She lifts her foot, and brings it down on the device, smashing the disc that matches the amulet.

"Now, all you've got is Angel," she sneers. "All you'll ever have is Angel."

I finally manage to scream, and the sound of it fills my ears. I scream again, emptying my lungs before refilling them in a gasping breath and screaming again. 

And then something's pulling at me, moving my arm, and I look and Angel's gone, and Willow's sitting at the edge of my bed shaking me.

A dream. It's funny, when it started, I knew it was a dream. When it was about Spike, I thought it was one of his dreams, the ones I don't remember in the morning, but which leave a stamp of him on me. Then, it was real. It went from being Spike in my bed to Angel, and my panic overtook everything else.

I calm slowly, taking deep breaths, and Willow doesn't ask for an explanation, happy to just wait until I'm ready.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks at last.

"No, … yes, … I don't know."

"Well, I guess the answer's in there somewhere."

I smile. Relief that it was just a dream gradually sinking in.

"It was a dream. I think it was just a dream, not a Slayer dream, or a prophecy or anything."

She nods and waits while I sketch the plot of it.

"You could be right," she agrees. "It could just be a reaction to what happened tonight – all your fears coming out to say 'boo'."

"But you don't think so," I offer.

"Didn't say that," she disagrees. "Not even sure I would. Truth is? I don't know. You're probably the best judge since you're the one having all the Slayery dreams and all."

She's right. And, now that I think about it, it does have the hallmarks of an ordinary nightmare. So, maybe …

"You ok?" she asks, stifling a yawn.

"Yeah, thanks, Will. You go back to bed. I'll be fine."

She does, and I lie there, trying to remember the good part of the dream, Spike, here, in my arms, even better than I remembered from before. Spike without guilt. I try to brand that feeling into my mind as I drift back to sleep, trying to imagine him here, holding me, keeping me safe, knowing that I love him.


	10. Chapter 10 Waiting

Chapter 10 - Waiting

I'm at work, but I'm so tense that I'm struggling to give the woman in front of me the attention she deserves. With an effort, I manage to keep enough concentration to follow her story as she recounts, haltingly, the episode that brought her here. For now, as with so many of the people I see, all she needs is to know that I believe her.  What she experienced, well, it'd be routine for Sunnydale, but it wasn't for her. It was horrifying and totally outside her experience. And then, of course, the stark refusal of the authorities to take her seriously did its damage on top of the rest of it.

I'm wondering if Willow's called yet. I'm desperate to know what happened with Fred. I'm hoping Willow doesn't tell Fred too much right now – we really just need to have some idea of where her loyalties lie. Anything else can wait until I hear from Angel.

And thinking of Angel, I haven't heard from him yet. I know, logically, that I only spoke to him last night, and that he might not have an answer right away. But logic doesn't really figure right now. Memories of last night, of how it felt to be with Spike again, well, if they were intended to make sure getting him back is my highest priority then they succeeded. Not that it wasn't already. It's just so frustrating - there's just so much that's unknown, and so little time. At least back in Sunnydale, I generally knew who was on my side. Ok, it took me a while to work Spike out. But the rest of them? They either wore black hats or white hats. Here? It seems like grey is the colour this season. Or maybe stripy. Black and white hats may be considered to be the height of fashion.

I drag myself back to the present. My client's looking at me, and despite everything I've said so far, she's expecting me to say something to refute what she's said. 

"I know this is hard to believe right now, but you'll get your life back," I tell her. "These things exist. I know it. I've seen them, and I understand things about them. They have weaknesses, and if you know what they are, you can keep yourself safe."

She looks at me, and the expression on her face is one of utter amazement.

"You really believe me," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes. And, if you'll just take a few simple precautions, you can be confident that you don't meet any more of them."

I hand her a card. It's not a business card, although it will fit into her purse easily. It simply describes the ways she can avoid vampires in future – you know, not being out alone at night, not inviting a stranger into her home, that sort of thing. I find those cards more useful than a lot of the other things I do – it's something for her to take away, and not only does it give her useful advice, it gives her written proof that someone has taken her seriously. When she comes back, we'll get down to some real counselling. This first session, like so many first sessions, is more a hold-over from my active Slaying days. She gets up to go, looking a great deal happier. 

When she's gone, my secretary comes in to tell me that Willow called, and asked that I return the call as soon as possible. Which means now, luckily.

"Hey, Will," I start.

"Buffy, hi. How's work?"

"Pretty routine. How was Fred?"

"I think she's ok," Willow explains. 

"I didn't tell her anything, not really. I just chatted about the work she's doing, and sort of worked the conversation round to how the whole Wolfram and Hart thing's going. She gave off some very similar vibes to Wes, really. She's not aware of anything, but she's still not completely comfortable. I … asked her how Angel was doing. You know, if he thought it was working out. She said something interesting. Like she felt that it had changed him. Something changed about him, and it happened round about the time he took over. She said it was like there were barriers around him that she hadn't seen before. Like he was pushing his friends away. Not that he hadn't done that before, but this was done, well, quietly. No big gestures, just … a distancing. She hoped you and him being together would bring him back, but …"

"Ok," I reply. When I think about it, the Angel who got his soul anchored seems pretty much the way he was back in Sunnydale. And maybe that should have surprised me? I mean, yeah, at two-fifty and counting he's not going to be changing as fast as me between sixteen and now, but you'd expect there'd be something. Just the fact of getting his soul anchored should have done something.

"Buffy, you there?" Willow asks, and I realise I've been temporarily lost in thought.

"Yeah, Will, just thinking."

"Heard from Angel yet?"

"No, but then I don't know how long it's going to take. If we don't get a meeting set up within a couple of days, then maybe we should just wade in and ask Fred."

"Maybe," she agrees. "Meantime, I've got some more work to do on some of this information. We've got the basics of most of it, but there're some things that don't make sense. I want to go and have another look, see what I can come up with. I'll be here if Angel calls and you want to talk, ok?"

"Thanks, Will. I really appreciate all this, you know?"

"Sure. Still, you never know when I'm going to need a counsellor or a vampire in Cleveland, so …"

I smile at that. A counsellor and a vampire. Now that sounds like a winning combination.

The next call I get is from Wes. I feel tendrils of guilt around my stomach as he starts to speak. He's been so supportive over all this, that in some ways I know it's wrong to keep him out of this part of it. I just couldn't bear to hurt Gina right now, and with the being pregnant, she might not see Wes having contact with Lilah as being entirely a Good Thing.

"Is it ok if I come round this evening?" he asks.

"Since when have you needed an invitation?" I answer. "Or is there something you're not telling me?" 

"What do you mean, something I'm not telling you?" He sounds defensive, and I'm confused. 

"Invitation - Vampire? I know it's not much of a quip, but they can't all be winners."

"Oh, yes, yes, precisely."

Now I know there's something wrong.

"What is it?" I demand.

"I've got some news, about that … thing. If it's ok, I'll come round later and discuss it with you."

I have to assume he's got someone listening, so my curiosity's going to have to wait for satisfaction. 

"Sure."

"Good. I'll see you at eight if that's convenient?"

"Yeah, see you then."

He grunts an affirmative and follows it with a goodbye, then hangs up. He hasn't actually told me anything, but I'm worried. There was something in his voice that screamed 'bad news' louder than I could ignore. The familiar chill settles on my stomach, and I have to steel myself to go on with the rest of my day. Eight o'clock seems a long time from now, and I'm pretty sure it's not going to seem any closer for a long time.

~~~~~

The afternoon at work passed in the longest blur I can ever remember experiencing. Nothing about it is clear, it just seemed to go on forever. I force myself to go to buy some food on the way home. Not that we don't need anything - my cupboards are pretty much bereft of nutrition right now - but I just want to get home and talk to Willow, and hope that Wes comes earlier than he said.

There's no method to my shopping. I know it even as I do it, throwing packages into the cart at random, hoping that they will magically result in meals. I pay for it in a daze, and go out to the car. 

When I get home, there've been no real developments, so I busy myself putting away the groceries. And why did I buy so much breakfast cereal? I'm seriously worrying about the state of my mind when my cell phone rings. I rummage through my purse and pull it out.

"Hey, Angel," I answer it.

"Buffy." It's one word, and I know he sounds pleased to hear my voice, but it's not the way Spike says it.

"So, have you set up the meeting?"

"You still want to talk to Lilah?"

"Why would I change my mind?"

"I just thought, maybe, you'd realise it's pointless."

"Does that mean you didn't persuade her?"

"What? No. She's willing - she seemed quite keen to meet you, actually."

"So, when?"

"Tonight. Midnight."

"Of course, it had to be. I always suspected she'd be the sort to arrange midnight meetings."

"You don't have to go, you know."

"Actually, I do. Will you be there?"

"Yes. I don't understand why you have to meet her, but I'll be there, just in case."

"You think she's going to try something, don't you?"

"I don't know. It's just, Lilah, she's … unpredictable. She could want to meet you for her own reasons."

"Don't worry, Angel. I can look after myself."

He sighs, and I can just picture his expression.

"Someday you'll realise that doesn't have to be a one-person job."

"I already know that," I blurt out, thinking, naturally, of Spike. "I mean, …" I hastily correct myself, "Xander, Willow - they helped me keep going before - watched my back."

"Yeah," he replies, but the sarcastic tone in his voice is obvious.

"So, I'll come to the Wolfram and Hart building tonight, a little before midnight. Will I get in?"

"I'll set up a pass for you, get them to send you straight up to my office."

"Ok. See you then."

After too long with not enough to do to help get Spike come back, suddenly it seems like things are moving. Now, if only I knew what Wes is going to say. I hope he's not planning on staying too late - it might be hard to explain the sudden need to go out late at night.

My thoughts are interrupted by my phone, and when I check the caller, it's Gina.

"Hey, Gina, how're you doing?"

"I'm good, Buffy. Listen, Wes is going over to see you tonight, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he called a while ago. Why? Is it a problem?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's just, there's something wrong. I don't know what, and I don't think it's anything to do with Spike. He's been, I don't know, kinda broody since the other night. I came across something he'd been working on, or at least his notes, and it was something about a child – two vampires creating a human child, and it was about Angel."

"Whoa," I answer. "Vampires can't …"

"I know, but that's what his notes said."

"Look, I'm sure it's nothing."

"But you'll tell me, right? If there's something I should know, you'll tell me."

"I'm sure Wes wouldn't tell me anything he couldn't tell you."

"But … No, you're right. It's probably nothing, or it's something he just wants to get straight in his head before he tells me."

"Maybe it's something to do with Spike and he just wants to tell me first," I offer.

"You're right, that's probably all it is. He'll come home after talking to you and he'll tell me everything. And I don't mind that, I really don't. I'm just being silly."

"You're not being silly, it's hard sometimes. Loving someone – it's hard, because when you love them, you're just so vulnerable."

"Yeah," she murmurs.

"But, hey, Gina, you don't have to worry. Because he loves you too. Anyone with half an eye could see it. So, he's not going to hurt you. He might try to protect you from things sometimes, but he only wants the best for you."

"You're right. I'm going to make myself some tea, and do some work I need to get done. I'll keep myself busy till he gets home, and then I won't be able to fret about nothing any more."

"You do that. Take care, Gina."

I end the call and mull over what she said.

Angel? A father? Nah, not going to happen, at least not this side of him getting his reward, humanity and all that.

Now, Gina's keeping busy, what do I do until Wes gets here?


	11. Chapter 11 – A Meeting and Various Expla...

****

Chapter 11 – **A Meeting and Various Explanations**

I should have known that when he said eight o'clock, he meant eight o'clock. I check my watch for the millionth time this evening, and it's a minute to. And then I hear the sound of a knock on the door. I jump up and go to answer it. Willow looks at me, knowing I'm on edge, but not really understanding despite my attempts to explain it.

I bring him into the living room, and he sits down, a folder with his notes on his lap.

"Ok, what is it?" I demand. "You've had me worried half the day, and now you're not talking." I know I've barely let him sit down, but I can't stop myself.

"Buffy," he says, shaking his head.

"What. Is. It?" Why won't he just tell me?

"It's the dates, I've worked out which one is the deadline."

"And?"

"It's the first one. We've got a little over forty-eight hours and that's all. We've got no idea of where the controller is, and we're all but out of time. I've spent hours today, rechecking my figures, making sure that everything's as accurate as I can get it, but I can't change the result."

He looks so … bereft. For just a moment, I want to comfort him. It looks like we're out of options, but at least I've got the meeting tonight set up. 

"Buffy?" Wes' voice breaks into my thoughts. And then I realise he doesn't know we still have that chance. And I can't not tell him, not now. Apart from anything else, I'm just not Oscar material. 

"Lilah's got it," I tell him.

"What?"

"The controller, Lilah's got it."

"What? How?"

"Long story short. I knew when I saw the picture that I'd seen it before. Then I remembered. That dream I had with Lilah in a walk-on part? She was wearing it."

"Ok, that's a start. But I don't know how to contact her."

"That's ok. Angel does. And he's set up a meeting for midnight." 

I can't meet his gaze as I say it. There's silence for a moment. I glance at Willow who's on the other side of the room. She's been so quiet during the conversation I'd almost forgotten she was there.

"It seems I've been out of the loop," Wes comments dryly. "When were you planning on telling me this?"

I drop my head. "Well, actually, I wasn't. I didn't want you to have any contact with Lilah in case it upset Gina."

"I see." Two words, but it's sort of the equivalent of Giles cleaning his glasses, and I don't mean that in a good way.

"We'll discuss this later, Buffy. Right now, we don't have time. What have you told Angel?"

I explain that I haven't really told Angel anything, and that Angel came to me with information.

"And you didn't think I needed to know that our visit the other night had been logged in some way?"

"He said no one knew who it was, so I thought you were safe."

He's clenching his fists at that, and I realise I'm seeing the other side of Wes - the side he keeps locked inside most of the time.

"I hope, for all our sakes, that they really don't know. Because, to be honest, I can't imagine Lilah agreeing to meet you unless she had her own agenda."

"But, what choice do we have?" Willow's question reminds me she's there.

"Yes. Look, I'm sorry, Wes. I did what I thought was best, and when Spike's back, you can yell at me all you want."

"Ok, so what are you planning to do?"

"I'm going into the Wolfram and Hart building tonight, and I'm going to meet Lilah."

"Not much of a plan, is it?"

"Well, no, but …"

"Ok. I'll go back there now. At least that way, you'll have some sort of back up."

"No, Wes. I don't want …"

"This isn't about what you want. This is about sorting out a mess for which I feel in some way responsible."

"No, Wes, wait …"

"Buffy, I agreed to the W&H deal the same as Angel did. If there's something going on, it's my responsibility to find out what it is."

He's got what Willow would no doubt call 'resolve face', so I know there's no point in arguing. I just wish I hadn't told him. Of course, then, he'd be feeling guilty, thinking we were going to fail.

"Ok," I agree reluctantly. "You go back in, and I'll be there later."

He doesn't speak again, just picks up his folder and stands to leave. I follow him out, and I put out a hand to touch his shoulder. I'm not used to Wes being so cold. He tolerates the hand, but I know that's what he's doing, so I take it away quickly, feeling the chill as something physical. He nods one last time before turning away.

It's only when he's gone that I remember my conversation with Gina. And, ok, Spike's time being almost up could have caused what had Gina worried, but somehow, I'm not convinced. But the other suggestion? I shake my head.

~~~~~

I approach the reception desk, trying to look more confident than I feel. The receptionist smiles, and then another woman appears, as if by magic, to escort me to Angel's office. I wonder idly why W&H only seems to employ extremely tall women. I mean, I know I'm kinda on the short side, but really, both the receptionist and my escort seem close to six feet tall. And did I mention elegant, in that 'even my labels have labels' sort of way? It occurs to me to ask Angel about the company's pay structure some time.

We ride the elevator in silence, which is probably just as well. Nervous Buffy tends to be big on the verbiage, but small on the sense. And I'm nervous right now.

I'm shown into the office, and my escort departs, closing the door behind her. Angel's at his desk, but he stands as I go in, coming towards me. He holds his arms out to me, as if to hug me, but I offer him one hand, and he shakes it awkwardly. I see the hurt in his eyes, but I can't do anything about that right now.

"Where's Lilah?" I ask.

"She'll be here. It's not quite midnight, after all."

I nod, and Angel gestures towards a chair, but the last thing I feel like doing is sitting down.

He shrugs at my refusal to sit, leaning against his desk to watch me pacing.

"You seem kinda worried, Buffy," he comments, folding his arms.

"What? Yeah. Well, if someone's going to open up the Sunnydale Hellmouth, I'd say that's worth worrying about."

"Given that you lived on it all that time, I'm just surprised that the possibility has you so riled."

I shrug. "I don't want to go back to that life, Angel. I like having a life that's not all about demons and death."

He seems to accept that, and I glance at my watch again. It tells me I've still got two minutes to wait, but when I look up again, she's there. She's looking out of the window, apparently ignoring both of us. Well, if she's not going to say anything, neither will I. For now, anyway. I can only see one of her wrists, and there's no sign of the controller on it.

She turns at last, and smiles. My first thought is how different she is to Gina. 

"So, this is the Slayer," she says, looking me over appraisingly. "Funny, I thought you'd be bigger."

"And I thought you'd be younger. So, what information do you have?"

She turns completely round, and lifts her right arm to clasp her left elbow. It's as if she's taunting me with it, as it's now in full view.

"She's got spirit, Angel. I'm beginning to understand what you see in her. Still, I'm sure you could do better."

"What information do you have?" I demand, taking two steps towards her.

"Oh, aggressive too," she smiles again. And I don't like that smile. There's something of the alligator in it.

"But don't get any ideas, because you see, I'm already dead, so you can't slay me. Oh, yes, I forgot. You normally slay things that are already dead. Still, you can't actually hurt me."

"Lilah," Angel interrupts. "You know what she wants, so why don't you just tell her what she wants to know, and we can all go home, or back to work, or back to … wherever you've just come from."

She looks at him then, shaking her head sadly. "Angel, Angel. You have no idea, have you? No inkling of why she wanted to meet me."

"She wants …" he counters, but Lilah interrupts.

"To talk to me about the Sunnydale Hellmouth? No. Of course, no one's trying to open it. What a perfectly absurd idea. If someone wanted to open a Hellmouth, at Sunnydale or anywhere else for that matter, there are much easier ways of doing it."

"But you said …"

"I know what I said."

"Then what?"

"Tell him," she says, addressing me. "Tell him what you're hoping to gain from coming here tonight."

My heart's hammering in my chest. If I really can't hurt her, and she knows what we're trying to do …

"Buffy?" Angel's voice impinges on my thoughts.

He's looking confused, and that hurt look? It's found some friends and come to stay.

"Oh, looks like Fluffy's lost her tongue. Never mind, I'll tell him. You can correct me if I get anything wrong."

"She's come for this," she states, holding up her arm. She walks towards him, giving him a good view of the disc. "Recognise it?"

He studies it for a few seconds. "It looks like the amulet, the one I gave to Buffy."

"Good. You recognised it. That means I don't have to go into complicated explanations. Now, do you know what it can do?"

His eyes narrow, and he glances from her to me and back again.

"No?" she answers for him. "Well, it can bring back the wearer of the amulet. We always planned to use it. Of course, that was Plan A. Unfortunately, Plan A ceased to be an option when Buffy decided you weren't her champion. The Senior Partners were very disappointed. But then, they didn't become the Senior Partners by not being flexible. We moved to Plan B, but that failed when Buffy decided she didn't love her brooding vampire after all. And now, we've got Plan C."

She turns away from Angel and looks at me appraisingly.

"You know, it's just occurred to me. You didn't last that long as the Slayer by being better than your predecessors, did you? It was just plain blind luck. I mean, you thwarted two perfectly good plans without even knowing about them."

I wish I could come up with something to say to that, but my mind's working on how to try and gain some advantage here. So far, she seems to know everything I know, and then some.

The ensuing silence is broken by the door of the office opening. Wes walks in, silently taking in the three of us.

"Lilah," he says, quietly. 

Her smile goes up a notch. "Wes, it's good to see you again. It's been a while."

"Yes it has," he agrees.

"When I said it was good to see you, I meant that on a personal, here and now basis. Actually, I sort of wish you hadn't come in when you did, because that tends to suggest that we've found our mole. Of course, we would have done so eventually, but … Well, it can't be changed, so let's get back to business."

She turns back towards Angel. "Angel, do you remember a while ago? I asked you why Buffy chose Spike as her champion. Do you remember what you said?"

He's not looking happy at the question, but he manages an answer.

"No, I can't say I do."

"Angel, Angel. You know, you've got to be careful of that soul of yours. Isn't lying sort of against the rules? Still, I know, sometimes the truth can be difficult. Personally, I'm only really partial to it when it can be used as a weapon. Now, if I can remember correctly, you told me that Buffy's reason was the need for you to come back here, just in case she failed. Something about a second front. Isn't that true?"

"Yes," he admits, but he seems reluctant to do so. I'm surprised because that's the reason I gave him.

"There was more, though …" Lilah continues, and Angel's looking very uncomfortable. "Oh yes, something about him being expendable."

Now, I didn't say anything like that at all, and Angel knows it. At least he's got the grace to look embarrassed. Still, I haven't got time for all that, so I decide it's time to say something.

"Look, Lilah, there's no point in raking over the past. Why don't we just get down to business?"

"Eager, aren't you?" she smiles, and I'm liking that smile less every time I see it. Could she show any more teeth?

"But no, I think we need some more explanations. You know, make sure we all know exactly what's been going on. You see, I believed Angel. You were supposed to be soul mates, you two. The idea that you would've fallen for another one of the undead just seemed a tad ridiculous. So, I believed him. It meant a delay in the plan, but hey, I've got forever. So, when he told me that you were feeling guilty about Spike's sudden attack of dustiness, I thought that was all it was. I suggested that he persuade you to move to LA, and I arranged a little memory spell. It all seemed to be working well, too. I got Wes here to discover a way to anchor Angel's soul, at least for as long as it suited my purpose, and you got together. Everything was going well, and you had to go and spoil it."

"Lilah," Wes says, moving towards her. "Will you please get to the point."

"Ok," she agrees with a shrug. "So, you decided Angel wasn't really the love of your life. And then, something happened to the memory spell. It wasn't broken, more fraying at the edges. Oddly, it never was as complete as we'd expected, but it seemed to be working, so we left it alone. But the holes in it were getting bigger, and it was obvious that you were fighting it. Only strong feelings would have enabled you to do that, and then having someone searching for information on the amulet - well, let's just say I've never been a believer in coincidence. We got someone to take a peek into your dreams, and who did we find in a starring role? And can I say, when it comes to dreaming, you've got style. Well, unless you count the nightmares, of course. The others were very interesting."

She pauses to let me feel the full import of her being privy to dreams I don't even remember. It leaves me feeling … dirty, violated in some way, but I fight the feeling. She's trying to keep me off balance, and I can't let her do that. 

She seems to realise that I'm not going to take the bait, so she continues, shrugging as she speaks.

"But we'd hidden things too well. You were never going to find the controller without any help, so I gave you a nudge, making an appearance in one of the dreams. And here we are. You want to bring Spike back, and you're running out of time. And you need this. Which is actually very good news for me."

As she says that last part, she moves the controller from her wrist to her other hand.

"You want to bring Spike back?" Angel asks, looking totally bewildered.

"Yes, Angel. That's why she wanted this meeting. She wants this."

"Buffy?" he asks.

"She's right. If we don't get him back soon, he's going to go to Hell forever. I can't let that happen."

"But … but it's what's going to happen in the end, so …"

"You knew, didn't you. You knew about the memory spell, that something had tampered with my mind."

He doesn't speak, but I know he did. Then a thought hits me.

"Did you know he could be brought back? What would happen if he wasn't?"

"Spike? No, no I didn't. Can't say I gave it any thought."

Lilah looks as if she's enjoying the show, and her attention seems to be centred on Angel. With an effort, I push my thoughts about what Angel just said to the back of my mind, and I take the opportunity to make a dive towards the controller. I bounce back from an invisible barrier about a foot from her, landing in a very undignified heap on the floor.

"I told you you couldn't hurt me," she reminds me. "But I'd have been disappointed if you hadn't tried. Now, back to business. You want this, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm not going to give it to you. I might be persuaded to use it, though. If I get the right sort of promise from you."

She smiles again. What is it with this woman and the smiling? She seems to consider what to say.

"Now, what could I ask for? Hmmm. Let me see. I've got it, the very thing. I want you to work for me. Not for always, this is a one job agreement. I don't even think it'll affect your conscience too much. You see, the Senior Partners are having some trouble with a particular sect of demons. They're trying to upset the balance of power around here, and that's bad news for everyone. That's where you come in. You see, they have this whole mythology around a future where they run the world. The good news from my point of view, is that they believe they'll achieve that because a Slayer allies herself with them against their enemies. So, what I want, is for you to be that Slayer, and to destroy them from within. Simple enough job, I'd have thought, for a Slayer of your experience."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then, I destroy the controller, and with it, I ensure Spike's eternal torment."

"And these demons? What should I know about them?"

"Well, they're flesh eaters, human flesh eaters, that is. Oh, and they prefer it living. Like I said, I can't see that destroying them should cause your conscience any discomfort at all."

"What species of demon?" Wes asks.

"Carnolan. Not big players right now, but some of our seers think they might be causing some problems in a few years."

Wes nods. I assume the name means something to him.

"I need to think about it," I offer.

"Fine," she says, sweetly. "You've got ten minutes. If I don't have an agreement by then, my heel's going to put a hole through this pretty trinket."

And she's gone.

"Buffy," Angel is the first to speak. "You're not going to do it, are you? What she's got in mind - that's what will upset the balance of power."

"But Spike …"

"Is going to Hell anyway. All you're going to do is delay the inevitable. I know Spike. He's not going to redeem himself."

"I think you're wrong. He already has. Saving the world's got to count for something."

Our argument is interrupted when Wes speaks. "Another thing to consider. If she brings him back, I fully expect she'll invoke the control clause. He will be controlled by her."

"Ok, maybe he will be," I counter. "But we'll have bought ourselves time. We might be able to undo that later."

"There are certainly possibilities," he agrees.

"These demons - Cran …"

"Carnolan," he corrects me.

"Ok, whatever. They eat living human flesh?"

"They do."

"So, why've I never heard of them?"

"Well, first, they don't leave any evidence. They eat everything. And then again, they're not actually that numerous. They've always preferred areas of low population, but I've heard rumours that they're moving into LA."

"Buffy," Angel says again. "You're not really considering this?"

"Tell me, Angel. What was Plan B? If I hadn't left you, how was she going to persuade me to do this?"

"It's about Connor, isn't it?" Wes' voice is quiet, but he sounds confident.

Now, I have no idea who or what Connor is, but by the look on Angel's face, it's important.

"How do you know about him?" Angel demands.

"The spells which were set up to stop us finding out about Spike and the amulet - well, we found a way to counteract them. Remembering bits about Connor was what you might call a side-effect. I'm pretty sure there's still a lot I don't remember, but I do remember you had a son. Or, more correctly, you and Darla had a son. What I don't know is what happened to him."

Angel's eyes flash dangerously, and for an instant, I see Angelus. "He was taken from me when he was a baby. By you. He was transferred to another dimension, one where time works differently. He left as a baby, but came back a young man. A young man who'd been taught to hate me. He was … mixed up, angry, confused. He would've killed himself, and others, but Lilah offered me the chance to stop that. It was the reason I agreed to take on Wolfram and Hart. He has a home, a family, a normal life. And I'm the only person who should have remembered him." His voice is filled with bitterness, and it's directed at Wes.

This is just too much information to process. So, I'm not going to try.

"But how does that persuade me to work for Lilah?"

"That was up to me. She promised that when you'd done something for her, I'd get my humanity, and we'd create a child together, except it would be Connor. I'd get a second chance with him."

"You wanted me to have you and Darla's child?" I demand. I'm sorry, but the idea is just repulsive.

"He would've been our child, made by us."

"But Darla was Connor's mother. So, what would I have been? A handy incubator? Or were you even planning on telling me?"

"I don't know. I wanted to wait until we'd been together for a bit longer, then I was going to tell you that I had the chance of humanity, but with strength equal to yours. I'd just made up my mind to tell you that much, when you moved out."

I feel as though I'm going to need to think for a week and I'm still not going to get over all this. I'm just letting some of it sink in, when Lilah reappears.

"So, have you decided?" she asks, twirling the controller around.

"What's to stop me agreeing, and then, once Spike's safe, changing my mind?"

"Good question," she says, grinning again. She's really enjoying herself, and I'm getting close to hating her.

"I'm sure Wes has told you about the side-effect of bringing Spike back. I'll control him. Of course, I don't have to exercise that control, I can let him do exactly as he wishes. On the other hand, I can turn him into something that'd put Angelus to shame for sheer viciousness. And then again, there's the fact that the deal will be mystically sealed. You'll be bound to complete the task, and only then will you be free. Even your death won't free you from your obligation. When your part of the bargain is complete, I will rescind control of Spike to you. It'll be up to you then whether you want to give him his free will, or keep him under your control."

"How can I be sure you'll keep your part of the bargain?"

"Oh, that's simple. It's all part of the seal. I'll be bound to it just the same as you are. I'll even set it up so that as our bargain is sealed, Spike will be returned to this world."

I look towards Wes. He looks worried, but I've already made my decision. Before I can speak, he interrupts.

"Lilah," he says, "I'd like a concession."

"Wes, now, let me guess what. You want to be privy to the details of the obligation, don't you?"

"Yes, I would. Otherwise, it all just seems a little one-sided, doesn't it?"

"You're right, of course. And, I have no problem with you doing that, ok?" 

"Buffy?" Angel again.

"I don't want to talk to you right now," I tell him.

"So, Buffy, what's your answer? Are you willing to do this little thing for me? Or do I …" As she says that part, she's placed the controller on the floor, and her foot is hovering over it. "Because, your time's up."

"I agree," I say quickly. Of course, the decision was made before she left, but …

"Good. Then, let's sort out the contract."

Then, the proceedings lose me. Wes suddenly stiffens, and seems to go into a trance. I gasp, and go to help him, but Angel holds me back. "He's checking out the contract, experiencing every part of it," he says.

I pull away, because I really don't want him touching me right now, but I don't go any closer to Wes.

It's probably only a few seconds, but it seems longer, when Wes comes back to himself. Lilah's looking at him, and smiling. "This reminds me of some of the good times we had," she says, watching as his face loses its rigidity. "So, is the contract as I described it?"

"It is. When the bargain is sealed, Spike will be returned, and Buffy will be bound to complete her task. When the task is complete, you will hand over control of Spike to Buffy. Buffy, are you sure about this?" he asks me. It's not said in a way that implies he's trying to talk me out of it, just that he wants me to be sure that I understand.

"I'm sure," I answer, surprised at how small my voice sounds.

"Good," Lilah says too heartily. "So, the contract needs to be sealed with blood. And, here, I have a knife. We'll go for a standard blood pact. I'll slice my hand, and you'll slice yours, and when the blood mingles, we'll both be bound by the contract."

I look to Wes for reassurance, and he nods, a slight movement that seems almost invisible. 

"Ok, let's do it." 

She hands me the knife, and I make a slice in the palm of my left hand, then I hand her the knife and she does the same. She then holds out her left hand, waiting for me to do the same.

I grasp her hand, taking a not insignificant pleasure from the fact that she's affected by Slayer strength. I don't actually hear any bones breaking, but I see her wince, and that's enough. Then, I feel heat emanating from the palm of my hand, going through me, travelling along my arm, and straight to my heart. 

And then she's gone. I look around, and Angel and Wes have gone. Or maybe I'm somewhere different. I'm not sure what's going on, and then I spot him. Huddled in a corner, looking almost as I remember him from the school basement after he got his soul. It's Spike. He's back. And suddenly, I don't care where I am. I run across the room to where he's cowering, and get to my knees in front of him. I lift his head so he can see me, and when he does, his smile lights up the room.


	12. Chapter 12 – It Starts with a Smile

_Just bear in mind as you read this, that I still haven't seen any of the new season of Angel. And thanks so much for all the lovely feedback – I really appreciate every comment._

Chapter 12 – It Starts with a Smile

That smile. Even when Spike didn't play a part in my waking thoughts, I know I dreamt about it. Not in the 'I remember' sense of it, but just something I know. His oh-so-familiar face blurs, and I realise I'm seeing it through excess water that's accumulating in my eyes. I brush my other hand over my eyes to clear them, and start to laugh. It's not a laugh because anything is funny, it's more just the absence of tension, well that and happiness.

He looks confused. I try to calm myself enough to speak. 

"Spike," I manage at last.

"Well, yeah," he whispers. "I'm just wondering who the hell you are."

Ok, not the response I expected. But then, Lilah never gave any indication as to what his condition would be when he was returned.

"I'm Buffy," I tell him, willing him to remember.

"Bloody hell! You look like her, but she's never … I've never seen her … happy like that. You're the bloody bot! That's it. The witch went and mended it again."

"Spike," I say softly, relief flooding me. After everything else, I'm not sure I could cope if he didn't remember me. My hand runs gently over his face, from chin to cheekbone and back again. And then I remember how he recognised me the last time.

I put a hand gently on his shoulders, feeling the softness of well-worn leather, and take in the black of his clothes. He looks just as he did when … he died. I kiss him, nothing passionate, just a gentle, friendly kiss. His eyes flutter closed as he realises what I'm going to do, and then, as I pull away, they open again, and stay wide open in surprise.

"It is you," he says, his voice mirroring his almost disbelief.

"Yes, it's me. And you're back. And still with the Billy Idol look."

He seems to consider what I've said for a moment, then he asks, "Back from where?"

Ok. It looks like some explanations are in order. I settle down to sit beside him.

"Spike, what's the last thing you remember?"

It seems he has to think about that.

"Well, the ubervamps. And an amulet. I wore it, and it was burning me. The place was falling down, and you said …"

"I love you," I interject.

"And I said you didn't. And then you left. And I burned."

I feel a stab of guilt at those words. Because I left him. I know it's what he wanted at the end, but I've always wondered if I couldn't have done something to get him out too.

"Yeah," I say. "But that was seven years ago."

I half expect him to argue, tell me I'm crazy, but he nods.

"It seems like it was a long time ago, I just can't remember where I've been since then."

"It's a long story," I tell him. "I'll tell you later. There's just one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"You were wrong."

Before I can say anything else, he jumps in. "Stands to reason the first thing you say to me after seven bloody years is to tell me I was wrong."

"Well, you were, and I've wished for those seven years that I'd told you sooner."

He's about to speak again, so I put a finger over his lips to stop him.

"When I told you I loved you, and you said I didn't. You were wrong. I did love you."

"Did?" he asks, and I see a mixture of hope and dread in his eyes.

"Did then, and still do," I tell him.

He doesn't seem able to answer that, and I see so many emotions flitting across his face that I smile.

"Let's get you home. There're a lot of explanations needed, I think."

"Home?"

"My apartment. We can talk."

He nods, and I stand up, holding out a hand to help him. 

Spike stands slowly, as if he's not sure his limbs will respond, but his hand is warm in mine. It takes a few seconds for that fact to filter into my brain. Spike's hand is warm. But that's just because I'm holding it, right? I touch his face again, and it's warm too. And then I put my hand over his heart, and I feel it, faint but strong, a beating heart.

"You're alive," I tell him.

He grasps his own wrist, checking for a pulse.

"Bloody hell," he shouts. "How?"

"I don't know," I tell him. "We'll find out, later."

"But … but, human? That's … that's …"

He's shaking his head, but seems to be lost for words. I make up my mind to chalk that up as a first. Spike's lost for words.

He wrenches his hand out of mine. I look up, hurt, wondering why he's done it.

"That's a bloody pickle, isn't it, Slayer? That's how it works, is it? You finally work out you can love Spike the vampire, and then I'm bloody human, and I know only too well how that's going to end. Well, thank you very much, but if you'll just show me how to get out of here, I'll get out of your life before this gets any worse."

"Spike," I say, louder than I intended. "Spike, we'll work out what this means. Just come home with me, and we'll sort it out. And anyway, where else would you go?"

He thinks for a few seconds, then realises I'm right.

"That's just great," he complains. "I'm a charity case now, am I? Look after the poor newly human wimp, because he's too weak to look after himself."

The urge to hit him is there. I remember it so well, but the difference is, this time I don't. I hold my hands by my side, even though they're itching to move.

"Spike, you're not a charity case. Come home with me, so I can explain what's been happening. Give yourself time to settle down, then see how you feel."

He's pulling away from me, but then I see his shoulders slump and I know he knows he hasn't got any choice.

For the first time, I really look around. It looks pretty much like Angel's office, except shabbier. Well, maybe not shabbier, but somehow less important. I lead Spike towards the door, but before we reach it, it opens, and Wes comes in with Angel right behind him.

"Buffy, oh, you're ok," says Wes, the relief showing on his face. "It took us a while to persuade Lilah to tell us where you were, and I was afraid she'd double-crossed us."

"I'm fine," I reassure him, but my eyes are on Angel who's standing behind, and I'm daring him to speak to me. His is the last voice I want to hear right now, and I think he's got the message, as he turns to leave. Spike's eyes are trained on his back as he retreats, but he says nothing.

"How is he?" Wes asks.

"'He', is fine," Spike retorts sarcastically. "And who are you?"

Wes steps forward, hand outstretched to greet him.

"I'm Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he says, "I'm a friend of Buffy's."

Spike ignores the proffered hand.

"Oh, yes, and you've got the Council of Watchers stamped all over you. What's this? Spike too much of a threat now, so they've got to get involved?"

Wes is taken aback by the confrontation, but manages to keep his cool.

"I was a Watcher, some years ago. Today, however, I work here. Tomorrow, I suspect I'm going to be self-employed."

"So, was bringing me back human your doing?"

"Human?" Wes looks at me for corroboration. 

I nod. "Heartbeat, warm. As far as I can tell, he's human."

"Most unexpected. And Lilah didn't give us any clue, did she?"

I get the impression Wes wants to start dissecting everything that's happened this evening, but all I want to do is get Spike home.

"Look, Wes, it's been a long day, and Spike's understandably confused about what's been happening. Let's all go home and get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

"Oh, yes, certainly," he replies, and the words form a strange sort of apology.

We walk towards the elevator in silence. Once we're inside, Spike asks, "So, where are we? I assume LA because of the poof, but where exactly?"

"We're in the LA offices of Wolfram and Hart - it's a firm of lawyers. I work here, and so does Angel." Wes' voice is calm and matter of fact, but he surely can't be any less aware of the waves of anger rolling off Spike than I am.

"So, what's a vampire doing working for some lawyers? Or an ex-Watcher for that matter?"

"We fight evil, in whatever form. The firm just gives us the resources to make the job easier."

He seems to accept that for a moment.

"So, what about you, Slayer? You work for this lot too?"

"No, I have my own business - I'm a counsellor. I help people traumatised by brushes with the things that were commonplace in Sunnydale - vampires, demons and so on."

There's a flash of something in his eyes, almost … admiration, but it's gone before I can be sure. All that's left is the pain and anger that's been there since he realised he was no longer undead.

Wes sees us to my car, and we get in in silence. I had so many pictures of this moment, of seeing him again, but none of them were remotely like this. I'd expected what? Perfection? No, not any more. But I'd expected something positive, some sign that he cares about me, loves me. Was I so stupid to believe that he loved me? And if he has no memories since the cave, why doesn't he seem to love me now? And yet, there was that look, those first few moments - they were closer to what I expected. What changed? And then it dawns on me. It changed when he knew he was changed. But I don't understand why.

I delve into my professional knowledge, and tell myself that he's just undergone a tremendous shock. Apart from having missed out on seven years, he's just found he's not who, or more correctly what, he thought he was. He's bound to be confused, and I can understand anger too. But it hurts to have that anger aimed at me when all I want to do is hold him and make everything feel good again.

We get back to find Willow in the hallway. She must have jumped up as soon as she heard my key in the door. Her face is so full of happiness when she first sees us, and I shake my head at her from my vantage point behind Spike, trying to warn her to keep things quiet for now.

"Oh, so the witch was involved too?" Spike mutters. "Might have known. Bringing people back from the dead's a bit of a speciality for you, isn't it?" 

He lunges towards her, and Willow instinctively moves back, but Spike stops before he touches her.

"Frightened you, did I? Just took you by surprise, more like. Couldn't hurt you if I wanted to, but then, you know that, don't you?"

"What is it, Spike? The chip was removed, before … before you dusted. What's wrong?"

"You really don't know?" Spike's voice is falsely calm. "I had you pegged as the one most likely to. Well, for your information, I'm human. Just a weak, insignificant ponce again."

Willow looks at me, and I nod.

"Look, it's late," I try to explain. "We'll talk in the morning. Spike, come with me, and I'll get you somewhere to sleep."

Willow disappears, and I take Spike into my room. "You can stay here tonight. I'll just get some things, and …"

"Your room, Slayer?" he asks.

I hate that he's calling me that again. "Yeah, is that a problem?"

"Typical, really. Never got this honour when I was a vampire, oh no. Now I'm a harmless human, I merit your room."

I shake my head. I had had visions of spending tonight in that bed with him, but I just know that wouldn't be right with things as they are.

"Look, Spike, I know being human is a shock. I get that, but I didn't know it was going to happen. The choice I had was between letting you spend eternity in Hell, or bringing you back. There wasn't any mention of whether you'd be alive or dead. Forgive me for caring enough not to want to consign you to Hell."

"Not sure there's much difference," he mutters.

"Look, Spike, I don't understand. I don't see why it's such a terrible thing to be human."

"It's not being human that's the problem, Slayer. It's being me. Stupid, poncy, weak, laughable me. Dru may not have done a lot of good, but she saved me from that, made me something better, something more. Now, I'm nothing."

"You're not nothing, not unless you decide that's what you're going to be."

I put my hands on his shoulders and look him straight in the eye. "The man you are was strong enough to fight the demon inside you. He was strong enough to win a soul. He was strong enough to love even without that soul. Don't you dare tell me he was nothing. He was the man I loved, that I still love, and somewhere inside you, he's still there."

"You're wrong, Slayer. He's gone. Everything that made me Spike is gone. And, once you realise that, you'll be running away from me so fast … But there's no point in talking about it now. This is your room, and I'm not sleeping here. I'll take the sofa, anything. Us poor human types need sleep."

"There's a spare bedroom," I tell him, "but no bed there yet. I'll order one first chance I get. You can have the sofa if you want, or …"

"The sofa'll be fine."

I lead him into the living room, and leave him there while I go to find an extra blanket. When I go back in, he's standing looking out of the window.

"You hungry?" I ask.

"A bit," he admits, more quietly. "Feel more like getting drunk, though."

"Can't help with the getting drunk," I tell him, "but food I can do. Can I fix you something?" 

"Don't go to any bother on my account, Slayer," he says. "I can manage to make a sandwich if you've got some bread."

I leave out the makings of a sandwich, then turn to leave. It's quite clear he doesn't want me here, so I'd best go to bed.

I realise once I'm in bed that I didn't show him the bathroom, but I'm loathe to get up again. I didn't really think he'd come back and we'd instantly find everything perfect, but I definitely didn't figure on spending our first night apart. I'm feeling so alone, and I desperately want to hold him, to be held by him. 

The one thing that's certain, though, is my belief that I did the right thing. The bargain I made is going to make things difficult, but I wouldn't change my decision. I just hope Spike eventually sees the positive side of it too.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13 – Back, But Not to Normal

__

Sorry for the delay. There's just too much going on at home right now, with general family celebrations and so on. Chapter 14 has been started, though, so I'll post it as soon as I can.

****

Chapter 13 – Back, But Not to Normal

I go to bed, but sleep doesn't come. In some respects, this is worse than not knowing if we'd succeed – no scrap that. It's not. He's safe, and that's all that matters.

His mood switched when he knew he was human, and it's all to do with his belief that his human self is worthless. I understand that, even though I don't agree with him. It's obvious to me now, as it wasn't for so long, that his demon hasn't been running his life for a long time, if ever. Ok, I know, feeding, killing, loving violence, but he needed to kill to live. And the violence? I've got to admit, there've been times I've missed it. Before I came to LA, I'd go out at night sometimes, just looking for something to kill. 

I only realise I'm listening for any movement outside when I finally hear something. I jump up, terrified that Spike's decided to leave, but before I get to my door, there's a knock, and Willow's quiet voice asking if I'm awake. I open the door, and she comes in, fluffy slippers and robe and eyes filled with concern.

We sit on my bed, and it's like old times. I tell her what happened, about the bargain I made with Lilah. And I explain, as far as I can, what's happened since then.

"He told me once," I remember. "That time when he tied me up and offered to kill Dru for me if only I'd admit there was something between us? He told me she had saved him from mediocrity."

I'm not sure why I hadn't remembered that, well, apart from the fact that it's an incident best forgotten. I can see now, that even then, he was struggling to understand his own feelings, and having considered humans as food for so long, he just didn't know how to express how he felt. I mean, his relationship with Dru wasn't something I'd want to share. But he loved her, was devoted to her for a century. When he looks at me, I can almost believe he'd stay with me that long. Or the way he used to look at me, before, and then again, at first tonight.

"He's convinced that I can't love him now," I tell Willow. "The problem is, how do I persuade him to stay around long enough for me to prove it?"

Willow looks at her hands for a moment.

"Buffy, are you sure it's as simple as that? I mean, how do you know you can still love him? If he's human, and, well, limited in strength and everything, would you still love him? Or, could he love you, knowing that you weren't equals?"

She's putting into words something that's been at the back of my mind, but which I'd been keeping there, hoping that as long as I didn't put words to it, it wasn't real.

"Willow, I… I think I love him regardless. It wasn't the demon I loved before, it was the man. I know the demon was part of it, but it was more of an undercurrent. Then again, there was a time when I thought I loved Angel. I know, it'd be stupid to just expect Spike and I to be, well, perfect, but I know one thing for certain. He's the most important person in my life right now. And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure he knows that."

Somehow, after Willow left, I managed to sleep. Now, it's six in the morning, and I'm wide awake, and desperate to check that he's still here, and that it hasn't been a dream.

I get up, pull on some clothes, and creep into the living room. I needn't have bothered with the creeping, because he's sitting watching TV. He's got the sound pretty low, which explains why I didn't hear it before.

If he knows I'm there, he doesn't acknowledge it at all. The table in front of him is littered with debris – it looks like he's wiped me out of snack foods overnight. I go into the kitchen and put on some coffee, then go back. I sit down, and just watch him as he tries to pretend I'm not there.

After a few moments, he gives up trying.

"Ok slayer, what do you want to say? You've been sitting there, watching me, waiting to say something, so out with it."

"I … I … I don't know. I mean, there's a lot I want to say, but nothing in particular right now. Just … just, I want to ask you to stay. Please."

"We've already established I don't really have any choice about that, haven't we?"

"Well, yes, but … I think, if I ask Wes, he could probably get you papers, make you legal. Then, if you wanted to, you could get a job, get some money, and … do whatever you want. But, I'd still want you to be here."

"Oh, I get it. You want to take up where you left off when you blew up my crypt – at least until you realise I'm not like he was."

He gets up as he says that, moving towards where I'm sitting, and to my surprise, he bends over, and he's so close to me, I can feel his proximity in every nerve of my body.

"I mean," he continues, "I could probably give you a good run, but I don't think I'd be up to five hours any more."

His eyes rake up and down my body as he says that, but it leaves me feeling cold. 

"That's not what I meant," I tell him, willing my eyes no remain tear-free. "I just meant, I care about you. You're right, maybe I don't know you as a human, but I want to know you. I want to know you as well as I did before – better than I did before. But, you don't have to stay here, in this apartment if you don't want to. But if you do, then I've got two spare rooms once Willow's goes, and …"

I stop then, because what I want to say is at once both completely obvious and obscure.

He shrugs.

There's a sound, then, coming from the door. I get up, and go and open it. No one there, but there's a thick envelope on the floor. I glance at, and it's addressed to me, so I pick it up and take it inside.

As I turn away from the door, still staring at the envelope, I hear Spike's voice from the other end of the hallway.

"Someone there? The Poof come to call is it?"

"No, Spike, just some mail," I answer. 

I open the envelope and pull out a wad of paper. The top sheet explains what it's all about – it's on a Wolfram and Hart letterhead. It seems the lawyers aren't above sending out paper copies of their contracts.

I take the envelope to my bedroom and leave it there. There's no way I want Spike finding out about the deal I made – at least not right away. The Spike I know would insist on getting involved with what I have to do, and I can't risk that with human Spike.

I go into the kitchen and pour myself some coffee. I offer Spike some too, but he's back to watching some trashy show and either doesn't hear me or doesn't want to. I decide to leave him to wallow for a bit, and take my coffee to my room, where I climb back into bed, and take out the contents of the envelope.

The first few pages bring no surprises. Of course, it's couched in legal-speak, but it all seems kinda like I remember. Then, I come to the new stuff. There's a load of background reading. Everything I could ever want to know about Carnolan demons, their history and habits, and a lot more besides. I set that aside for now, and go to the bottom of the pile. Here are some sheets in a different style altogether, and I just know Lilah's responsible for them. 

Buffy,

I've enclosed the things my employers think you'll need to complete your task. Typically, they don't actually have a clue about the real world, so I'm adding this bit.

You may not have realised it yet, but you're going to be on this job for a while, and you're not going to have time for any other life once you get started. So, I've arranged for someone to take over your counselling. I know you're not going to like it, but you really don't have a choice. However, I can assure you that my choice is not only extremely competent and experienced, she's also trustworthy - and I mean that from your point of view. Check her out if you want, but you'll find I'm right.

You've got a little time before you need to get onto this, but it's just enough for you to put your life officially on hold. If you take too long, then I'm going to have to start experimenting with my control of Spike. Actually, I'm itching to do just that, but for the sake of our bargain, I'll hold off for a while.

Since Wes is so keen to help you, I've arranged for him to take an extended paid leave of absence. He'll be getting details of his new status this morning too, so he won't be surprised when you call him.

Ok, so, there you have it. Don't worry about Angel. I'll take care of him.

Lilah Morgan

Under that note is a sheaf of paper which seems to be a resume for some woman who looks slightly familiar. I stare at the photo for a few seconds, and then it comes to me. She was a TA when I was at school. She was ok, too - reputed to be brilliant, and working on some research of her own. I read through the details of her career, and if it's all true, then there's nothing I can take exception to. 

I didn't like Lilah last night, and I really don't like her now. Just when I was thinking I was settled, she's just going to shake everything up. And I can't just leave Spike while he's in this state. That's just not a possibility, but then, neither is me taking him along. Having to look after a human Spike would just make everything else so difficult.

So, I'm going to have to risk just waiting. And I'll have to keep Spike where I can make sure she doesn't force him to do something I've got a problem with.

~~~~~

It's later in the day, and I'm at work. I didn't want to leave Spike, but if I'm going to check up on my replacement, one Sarah Carlisle, then I need the contact list I keep in my desk. And then again, there's the fact that I've got appointments.

Wes called me just after I got here. As Lilah promised, he got some details this morning too. He's going to come over tonight, and he's going to bring Gina. Apart from anything else, she's desperate to meet Spike after all she's heard. And then there's the planning and research we need to do. I really wanted to arrange to go out somewhere - their apartment or somewhere, so we could talk without Spike overhearing, but Gina was insistent and I don't want to leave him alone longer than necessary. 

Willow's leaving in the morning. She's done what she came here for, and while she's promised to help again if she's needed, there's no reason for her to stay away from Kennedy longer than she already has.

I get home to an empty apartment. There's a note from Willow to say she's gone out to get something for Kennedy. There's no note from Spike.

When Willow gets back, she's as surprised as I am that Spike's gone. I hoped he'd just been bored with the TV, and gone for a walk, but it's getting dark. It may not be Sunnydale out there, but it's not safe either. I go out, searching the streets close to my apartment, trying to find him, leaving Willow to pack and let me know if he gets back.

My heart's in my mouth as I walk, circling blocks, knowing that there's not really much chance that I'm going to run into him. And that's assuming he's just out for a walk. If he's decided to leave, to get away from me, then … 

I wish I hadn't told him about Wes being able to get him papers, because, by inference, that means Angel would be able to get them for him too. And if it meant getting Spike out of my life forever, I can't help but think that Angel might be only too happy to help.

It's so long since I did this. It really seems like a patrol, except it's not vamps I'm looking for, it's one particular ex-vamp. I scan each alley I come too, knowing from experience that vamps don't really like feeding too publicly. They're not exactly afraid, what with the super strength, and the way the bumpy face scares people away, but they just don't want to be disturbed.

As far as I can tell, it's a standard evening in LA. There're lots of people around, but none of them is him.

I've been walking around for over two hours, and the fear that I felt when I realised he was out alone has been multiplying inside me. I reach a park, and wonder whether I should look there too. Since I've failed on the streets, I decide to give it a try. It's full dark now, and without the benefit of street and car lights, I'm quickly plunged into total darkness. Times like this I wish I had vamp vision.

If he is here, there's no way I'm going to find him, and I turn to head back to the street, when I get a faint tingle. There's a vamp around here somewhere. I check my pocket and waistband, making sure I've got a couple of stakes ready, and push my Slayer sense out trying to locate it.

I pinpoint the direction, and move that way, every sense extended for maximum information. I hear them before I see them. They're not exactly being noisy, but they're discussing something, and there are at least three of them.

"Who gets to be first?" one asks.

"It's my turn," another voice counters.

"I brought him, so it's my turn first," a third voice states. This voice sounds much more confident that the others. "You don't like it, you go and catch yourself one."

"You know we can't," someone whines. "We're not strong enough yet. That turncoat hurt us badly. We only just got away from him the other night. We need fresh blood, and the master told you to make sure we get it."

There's a snarl then, and I know I'm getting closer. I also know that their victim is Spike. Ok, no, I don't know, but I'm terrified it might be.

"Ok" the third voice gives in, "but he's coming to, so be quick."

I'm so close, I can almost touch them, but there's a thick hedge in front of me, and I've got to go around it. It's just too thick to go through quickly, and too high and even to climb. I wish I had a flashlight with me. I start to hurry along the hedge, desperate to find an opening. I hear the sound of a struggle, and my heart's pounding. I know I'm hearing Spike's last moments, and I can't get to him. 


	14. Chapter 14 Human Tolerance

Chapter 14 - Human Tolerance

At last, the hedge ends, and I run around it, rushing back along its length, and I see him, a mere glimmer in the moonlight. The sight almost causes my heart to stop as it's exactly what I dreaded seeing. No, wait, that's not exactly true. I freeze on the spot. He's fighting, well, I guess you could call it that. He's drunk. He's giggling, and he's staggering, but somehow, it's more like Spike than anything I've seen so far. His co-ordination's not up to much, but he's managed to stake the one who was feeding from him. 

One of them tries to run, apparently deciding he doesn't like food that fights back, but the other closes in on Spike, who's sitting on the ground, apparently having a great time if the giggling is anything to go by. He's not afraid, and I wonder for a moment whether or not to help, but when I see him try to stand, my indecision's gone.

Too late, the vamp realises I'm behind him. He turns just as I thrust a stake through his back into his heart. I take a quick look around, but wherever the third one is, it's nowhere around here.

I look back towards Spike, and the result of that is a recurrence of the giggles. I don't know whether to join in or yell at him, but in the end, I'm just so relieved, and so angry that he let himself get into this position, that I yell.

"What do you think you're doing, Spike?" I demand, hands on my hips.

He seems to sober a little at my words, but then he grins.

"Was staking me a vamp or two," he replies, his words slurred.

"I mean, what are you doing out after dark, in a park, no less?"

"Park? That where I am?" 

He looks thoughtful. "Don't remember being in a park."

"Save it," I answer. "Let's get you home, and then you can tell me why you're trying to get yourself killed."

His expression as I say that is so remorseful after a second, that I feel my anger melting. I go to him, and haul him to his feet, putting an arm under his arm, and pulling his arm over my shoulders. He's actually fairly steady once he's upright, and I take him back the way I came, out of the park, and onto the street.

By the time we get to the apartment, I get the impression he doesn't need any support, but he doesn't let go, and it's the last thing I want to do right now. Being this close to him, touching him, feeling his pulse, it's such a strange mixture of the familiar and the new. Once we're inside, though, there's no excuse. He flops onto a chair, and I turn to see Willow pulling her suitcase out of her bedroom.

"Is he ok?" she asks.

I nod. Words seem difficult when I think how things could have turned out.

"My cab should be here in a minute," Willow says.

I glance at my watch, and realise it's later than I thought.

"Sorry, Will."

"No problem. As long as everyone's ok."

I hear the sound of a car horn from outside, and glance out the window to confirm that it's Willow's cab.

"It's here," I tell her, covering the distance between us. I hug her tight.

"Thanks for everything," I say softly.

"Really no need for thanks," she replies.

"Thanks anyway. And safe journey."

She nods, and I pick up her suitcase to walk her out to the cab.

I watch as the tail lights vanish along the road, then go back inside.

Spike's sitting where I left him, but he's not looking so happy.

I sit beside him, and lift his face so he's looking at me.

"What were you doing? Trying to get yourself killed? You had me so scared… I thought I'd lost you again."

"Wasn't," he murmurs.

"Wasn't trying to get killed," he finishes. "That's what you said, out there. I wasn't."

"Well, what were you doing?"

"Getting drunk."

He says that as if it explains everything.

"Getting drunk," I parrot.

"Well, yeah. I seem to remember it helps. Well, no, it doesn't really, but it seems to for a while."

"Where'd you get the money?" I ask, trying to keep my voice level.

"Played some college kids at pool. Easy enough scam. Play them without a stake and let them win, then give them the chance to fleece me too, except then I play properly."

"Ok, so you suckered some college kids. Then you got drunk."

He seems to have to think about it. "Yeah, except, I don't remember drinking that much. Started feeling kinda … sick. Never felt like that before. Went outside, thinking I was going to throw up, and the next thing I remember was some vamp trying to take a bite."

"Ok," I say. "Makes sense, I suppose. You're human now. Makes sense you'd only have human resistance to alcohol, and your human body isn't used to it, so it wouldn't take a lot to make you drunk."

"Hadn't thought of that," he admits.

"You were really scared?" he asks, dropping his head again.

"Of course I was. Ever since I first realised there was a chance you could come back, it's all I've been able to think about. And to lose you again … I couldn't take it."

"Sorry," he mutters. "Sorry I scared you. I didn't think …"

"No, you didn't."

He grins sheepishly, and I raise a hand to his face, sweeping some stray hair off his face. He closes his eyes at the contact, but his body stiffens, so I pull away.

"How're you feeling?" I ask.

"Like a pillock," he admits. "A very sleepy pillock."

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?"

"Maybe an hour or two."

"Let me change the bed Willow's been using, and you can go and lie down."

"Don't bother. Don't imagine the witch's that dirty, and I'm sure I've slept worse places than her used sheets. Ok if I go and lie down now?"

"Sure," I answer, getting up as he does. 

He leaves the room, and I follow him into the hallway. He goes into the bedroom but pauses in the doorway, turning towards me.

"Was fun, though," he says, smiling at me.

"Fun?"

"Yeah, fun. Staking vamps again. Bit of violence. Fun."

He doesn't wait for an answer, just turns and closes the door behind him. When I check on him ten minutes later, he's sleeping like a baby.

He's still sleeping when Wes and Gina arrive. They follow me into the living room as I explain in whispers what happened.

"He managed to stake one of them though," Wes asks.

"Well, yeah, but it wasn't much of a vamp. It'd been hurt, I guess by Angel from what they said."

"But an average human, as drunk as you say Spike was, wouldn't stand much of a chance even against an incapacitated vamp," he insists.

"Well, no, but then Spike's not average. He's got a century of fighting techniques at his disposal. And to be honest, I think he got lucky."

"Ok," Wes agrees, but I can see he's not convinced.

"So, you've heard from Lilah too," I change the subject.

"Yes, this morning. It appears that, effective immediately, I'm not welcome at Wolfram and Hart."

"That's not what she said," I disagree. "She said you were on paid leave."

"That's what my communication said too, but I'd be naïve to think I'm going to be trusted again. I'll continue to take payment while I help you complete your task, but as soon as that's over, I'll go back to working on my own. I may even be able to persuade some of the others to join me, but that's for another time."

"What else did she give you?" he asks.

I hand him the stack of papers, and he scans them, reading more carefully when he comes to the background information on the Carnolan demons. I leave him to it, although I do feel just a little guilty. But then, research - not my strong point.

"Have you shared this with Spike?" he asks, looking up from the papers for a moment.

"No, and I'm not going to," I reply.

He looks at me, the sort of long look that authority figures use when they don't like what you said.

"Buffy, he deserves to know what you promised to do in order to bring him back."

"But, he's human, and without all the super strength, and the being already dead, I'd just have to look out for him all the time. And there's no way he wouldn't want to be involved."

"Yet I'm involved," Wes reminds me. "And, in her own way, Gina's involved too."

"I know, and I'm sorry," I start to apologise, but Wes holds up his hand.

"Buffy, stop. I'm not looking for an apology. I chose to be involved, and so did Gina. Or at least, she knows what I do, understood that before I married her."

Gina puts her hand on his arm. "He spent about a month, while were engaged, trying to persuade me to break it off because he didn't want me involved with demon fighting, however indirectly."

"So, Gina and I have chosen to be involved. But Spike has the right to choose too. Like it or not, it concerns him, in a very real way. You've given up, albeit temporarily, your 'normal life', and you did it for him. Now, I know you did it willingly, but you owe it to him to tell him what happened. And you know what I'm saying is true. If you and he are ever going to have a future, you need to let him into all aspects of your life."

Deep down, I know he's right. It goes against the Slayer thing, the part of me that feels it's up to me to look after everyone else, but he's right. The times I nearly failed as the Slayer were the times I tried to do it alone.

"Ok," I sigh. "I'll tell him. I'll tell Spike what I agreed to do."

The words are no sooner out of my mouth than I realise he's standing in the doorway.

"What's this? What're you going to tell Spike?"

I jump at the sound of his voice, guilt and surprise adding to make my heart thump in my chest. He ignores me, and walks towards Gina, hand outstretched.

"Seems we're going to have to introduce ourselves," he says, shaking her hand.

"I'm William Carrington," he says, "formerly known as the Vampire Spike or William the Bloody."

"Gina, Gina Wyndam Pryce," she answers, smiling at him.

I shouldn't be surprised. If there's something Spike's never been lacking in, it's charm, oh and appreciation of an attractive woman.

"That mean you're with him?" he asks, nodding his head in Wes' direction.

"For better or worse," Gina replies, smiling warmly.

"So," he says, moving to an empty chair and flopping down on it. "It seems I've been out of the loop for a while, so maybe you'd better start at the beginning."

And so we start. To tell the truth, Wes does most of the talking. I'm watching Spike, how he reacts to what's being said, looking at every twitch and change of position from under my eyelashes.

Spike tenses noticeably when he hears about the deal. It's hard to tell what emotion caused the tension, whether it was anger, or fear, or something else altogether. I chance a proper look at his face, and I see confusion, and then pain. He doesn't say anything.

Wes goes on to outline what the documents in front of him say about Carnolan demons. The fact that they're flesh-eaters, but that they've not until now been numerous enough to impinge on human awareness. He adds some further information, including what he remembers from his Watcher training, but all that does in reinforce what we got from Wolfram and Hart.

Wes pauses then, letting us consider what he's said.

"Seems there's something odd about this," Spike says.

"What?" I ask.

"Well, two things, really. If these demons are as potentially nasty as their advertising suggests, why would these evil lawyer types want rid of them?"

"Balance of power, Lilah said," I answer him.

"Mmm hmm. So, if there're two or more groups, all balanced, and you go and get rid of one of them, what does that do to the others?"

"It upsets the balance," I answer, but Wes interrupts.

"It effectively increases the power of the other group or groups. We knew that, but it's a risk we're going to have to take, even if it means taking on the other groups afterwards."

"Ok, I get that. I'm not sure why you'd take that risk just for me, but, ok. The other point is something about the Carnolan demons themselves. There's something about what you're saying that just doesn't make sense. I can understand that the Watchers council, and humans in general wouldn't have much contact with these demons. But, I don't understand why they don't figure in vamp history. We're too alike, I mean, we've got the same food supply, so we're bound to have crossed paths sometimes."

"Yes, I suppose so," Wes agrees, but he doesn't seem to know where this is going.

"Then, why have I never heard of them?"

"Just because you've never heard of them, …" Wes starts, disagreeing.

"Look, watcher. I've been around a bit longer than you. Living out there, among the demons. I speak bloody Fyarl, and a couple of other languages they didn't teach at UC Sunnydale, or Oxford. Demons know demons. Even if it's only knowing which ones to fight and which ones to keep the hell away from."

"So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, I've never heard of Carnolan demons, and I've never heard of anything that has that particular MO. Sounds like the sort of thing to frighten young ones with - bogey man or the likes."

"But, there're records, both at Wolfram and Hart, and at the Watchers Council," Wes remonstrates.

"And, records've never been altered or made up before, now have they?"

Wes turns strangely pale at that, but it's not the time to start asking for explanations.

"So," I say, catching on. "You think there's something more to all this than they've told us."

"Bloody right I do."

Wes is silent at that, thoughtful.

"I'll call Giles. If my memory serves, Carnolan demons were only mentioned in one text. It would obviously be easier to fabricate a single reference."

He turns towards me then adding, "Would it be ok for me to borrow this? I'd like to digest the contents before I talk to Giles."

"Feel free," I tell him. "It's not like I'm itching to read it."

That comment earns me a very Giles-like glare.

Wes is sitting on the edge of his chair, and I know he just wants to go and get on with his research. Gina's watching Spike and me, and trying not to be obvious about it. Spike? He's decided his lap is very interesting. And I desperately want to talk to him, find out how he feels about the information, but I'm not going to ask him in front of the others, so I'm relieved when Gina nudges Wes and says, "I think it's time we were going home, Wes. You can read that and make notes to your heart's content, and then you can call Giles."

Wes takes his wife's hint, and gets up to leave. I follow them to the door, and once there, Gina gives me a hug.

"He's not happy about things, but you knew he wouldn't be. Give him time, though. If he loved you as much as you remember, he'll understand why you did what you did."

I hug her back, and we separate, but then she leans over to whisper in my ear, a wide grin on her face. "Oh, and for the record, I fully understand you wanting him back!"

I can't help but smile back at her, and for a few seconds all I feel is joy that he's with me. She's right. We can work all this out, I know we can. Just as long as we're both willing to try.


	15. Chapter 15 Trying

__

I'm not sure how regular updates will be for a few weeks, since I'm due to start a course, and it'll take a while to get myself organised with that.

Also, if any of you are getting new chapter alerts through ff.net, you need to know that I probably won't pay for support services when my current subscription expires at the start of February. If you want email notification when I update, you can join the updates list at my site. The address is in my profile. I always update here and at my site within minutes of one another, so the notification applies to both.

And, thirdly, this story has been picking up a few nominations. It's up for best original character in the Spuffy Awards (for Gina), Best WIP and Best Crossover Fic at Vampires Kiss Awards, and Best Plot, Best Crossover and Best POV fic at the Shadows and Dust Awards. I really appreciate that people took the time to nominate the story - you know who you are.

****

Chapter 15 - Trying

I walk back to the living room determined to make things right between Spike and me. He's sitting where I left him, his shoulders rounded, staring at the floor. He hears me coming in, and looks up, and his expression makes my heart clench in sympathy.

"You gave it up for me," he says softly, his eyes wide.

"What?" I reply, not quite sure what he means.

"You had it all. What you wanted, the normal life, the career, and you've given it up."

I go and sit beside him. His eyes follow me, and my doubts vanish - all those niggling feelings that've been plucking at me since Spike realised he was different, they just evaporate. His feelings are written on his face along with the wonder and the fear that vie for precedence. For once, I think carefully before I start to speak. This is too important for misunderstandings.

"You're right. I reached the stage in my life where I thought I had it all. I told Angel once, that I was cookie dough. Just before the end, in Sunnydale, I told him that I wasn't ready for the big decisions, that I needed to find out who I was before I would be ready for the 'happy ever after' thing. After Sunnydale, I moved on, came here, built myself a life. Someone had been messing with my mind, so I didn't remember you as clearly as I should. But I thought I was as ready as I'd ever be, so I tried to make that life with Angel."

I see him tense, and put a hand on his arm only to have him shrug it off. I continue.

"His soul is permanent now, so there wasn't any danger of Angelus spoiling things. But I knew, almost right away, that it wasn't right, that something was missing. It was like I was meant to be chocolate chip cookies, but I'd run out of chocolate chips. Part of me was missing. And, as soon as I realised that, the answer was obvious. The thing that was missing, the man who was missing, was you. Despite some mojo that was supposed to make me forget you, I didn't, not completely."

He doesn't say anything, just continues to look at me, and I just want to drown in those eyes. I take a deep breath to steady myself, and continue.

"So, Willow managed to lift whatever it was that made you less important in my memory, and then we found that there might be a way to get you back. And the truth is, with my memory intact, I knew that my normal life wasn't worth anything without you to share it. And even if it's never exactly normal again, my life doesn't mean anything without you. So, you ask why I gave it up? Because without you, I don't have a life. And the alternative, with you consigned to Hell, just wasn't an option."

"Buffy, s'what I deserve. I mean, the things I did …"

"Shh," I put my finger on his lips to stop him disagreeing. "You also saved the world. At the very least, you deserve a chance to change. I don't know why I didn't see that earlier, but it's true."

He shakes his head, and I move my finger.

"Buffy," his voice is firmer now. "You love him, Spike. You don't know me. I'm not him, and I never will be him. And when you realise that, maybe Angel won't seem like such a bad deal."

I feel anger boiling at that remark. How dare he suggest that I'd go back to Angel? I think he can see my irritation, and in true Spike style, instead of saying something to calm me, he does the opposite.

"What? You need a bit of monster in your man. If Spike can't supply it, then why not Angel?"

"I've already told you. It didn't work with Angel. It didn't, and it never would."

My voice is louder than I intended, but quieter than it would have been a few years ago.

"It's not Angel that I love. I mean, I care about him, and I probably always will, even if right now, I really don't want to see him. It's Spike. And, whether or not you agree, you're the closest thing to Spike there is. I'm not seeing a whole lot of difference, except for the not having to keep out of the sun."

"I'm not him. I don't have a demon, that dark side that you crave. Not any more."

"Who are you, Spike, if not the sum of your memories and experience? And now I'm sounding like a freshman psych. class. You lived with that demon for a century. Are you telling me it didn't make a difference? And as for not knowing you? I want to. I want to know everything about you. You've already seen me at my worst - when I didn't want to live, when I wanted to hurt you because it made me feel a little better. And I know I've seen some of the worst of Spike too, but I loved him anyway, even if it did take me a while to realise it. Let me get to know you, let me see if I can love you, whoever you are now. Let you find out if you can still love me. I've changed too. We'll take it slowly, if that's what you want, but I'm just begging you to give us that chance."

He laughs then, although there's no joy in it, and lifts his hand to my hair.

"Buffy, taking things slowly isn't what I want to do. Part of me is desperate to touch you, to feel you, to … but … ."

I don't answer that, because I'm feeling exactly the same thing. Having him so close, and not being able to touch, really touch, is agony. I close my eyes for a second, enjoying the feeling of his hand on my hair, and I know that if he moves closer, kisses me, I won't stop him. He doesn't. After seconds or hours, his hand drops away from me, and I open my eyes again. He's still looking at me, and I know I've got to break the spell before we do something we might regret.

"So, we take it one stage at a time. First thing, is for you to just get used to being back. The rest, well, it'll probably have to wait until after I sort out this business with Wolfram and Hart."

"We."

I must look confused, because a second later, he adds, "After we sort out this business with Wolfram and Hart."

"But Spike," I remonstrate.

"But nothing. You either let me help out front, or I'll just follow along anyway, more than likely getting in your way, but there's no way you're doing this alone. He would've been there to watch your back, so how could I do any different?"

I'm about to tell him why, but then I remember the conversation with Wes, and I know he's right. However irritating it might be, I've got to let him make the decision. And the last thing I want to do is to undermine his confidence. I cast my mind back to the conversation with Riley after Dawn let slip that I called him 'kitteny'. He made the best of it, but he was hurt.

I decide to go for a simple, concise answer.

"Thanks, Spike."

He smiles at that. "Going to take a bit of getting used to, that. The Slayer saying thank you."

I tense at that, feeling the guilt again, for all those times I treated him badly, but his voice is teasing, and his smile warm. I smile back.

"Don't know about you, Pet, but I could do with a bit more sleep. What do you say we talk in the morning, decide how we're going to do what we need to do."

He gets up, signalling that the conversation's over. I can't make up my mind whether I'm more scared or happy, but it looks like I've got another member of the team.

He walks towards the door, and turns back towards me before he leaves the room.

"Still got some of the money I won," he says, pulling it out of the back pocket of his jeans. "Thought I might buy myself a change of clothes. This human thing - it comes complete with some annoying extras I could do without - like sweating and … other assorted smells. Ok if I take a shower before I go to bed?"

I just nod. It's the first time I've heard him say something so … accepting about his new status. If he can only accept it, and realise he's more Spike than whoever he was before he was turned, then maybe we'll work this out.

****

I listen to the sound of the water as I get ready for bed. I'm surprised by how tired I feel - the anxiety of the past few days has taken its toll. I climb into bed, hear Spike come out of the bathroom and go into his bedroom, and I'm aware of nothing more.

I sleep so deeply that I either forgot to set my alarm, or I slept through it, because the next thing I know it's after ten. I get up, relieved to realise it's Saturday, and pull on a robe. I check the living room and kitchen but there's no sign of Spike. I knock softly on his bedroom door, trying not to waken him, but desperate to know he's ok. There's no answer. I open the door carefully, and find the room empty, the bed made up carefully.

My heart starts thumping uncomfortably, and I try to push down my fear. He said he needed some new clothes, so that's where he's gone. I think the words, but I'm not convinced. I take a deep breath, and go back into the kitchen searching for some sign that I'm right.

It's there, perched against the coffee pot, a note. He's borrowed my keys, and gone shopping. A wave of relief engulfs me, leaving me almost dizzy. I put the coffee on, and go into the bathroom to shower. I'm almost finished when I hear the door opening, and I know he's back. I quickly finish rinsing my hair, and turn off the water. I wrap my hair in a towel, and pull on my robe again.

I bump into him right outside the bathroom door. He starts, but the look he gives me is pure Spike, admiring what he can see in a way that'd be downright obscene from anyone else. Then something strange happens. It's as if he realises what he's done, and he changes, looking down and reddening.

"S .. sorry," he apologises. "Wasn't looking where I was going."

He turns then, and if he were moving any faster, I'd have to say he runs away to his room. I shake my head, trying to work out his reaction, then give up. I'm confused, but then that's nothing to how he must be feeling.

I've dried my hair, dressed and I'm eating some breakfast when he appears again, dressed in black jeans and t-shirt. The only reason I know they're new is the absolute blackness of the denim, and the small logo on the breast of the t-shirt. Again, it's pure Spike. I can't imagine what he was like as a human, but so far, apart from a few strange episodes, he's exactly the man I finally realised I love.

"No change in colour scheme then," I comment, as he pours himself some coffee.

"Well, if it's not broken, don't fix it. Any complaints?"

The t-shirt is tight, fitting closely, and his arms are bare. The jeans are, if anything, tighter than I remember. I assume that's just the fact that they're new, but the total result is … amazing. And in a totally Spike way. The look is all about raw sexuality - conventional enough to be acceptable in public, but definitely enough to make sure that every woman and a fair number of men who see him are going to give him a second look. 

His hair's showing roots a little, but he's had it cut while he was out, and it's gelled into conformance the way he seems to like it.

The phone rings and I'm torn from my admiration to answer it. I take it through to the living room, and flop onto a chair, glancing at the display before answering it. I'm surprised to see that it's my office number.

"Hello," I answer cautiously.

"Buffy, Sarah Carlisle here. Just thought I'd let you know I really appreciate you letting me take on your business here. I've been looking for something like this, and I just couldn't believe how perfect this is for me just now."

"Hello Sarah," I answer. I'm really not sure what to say here. She obviously assumes that I've instigated getting her in, but I'm not sure how much she knows.

"Last time I heard about you, you were doing some interesting research," I answer, hoping to get some new information.

"Yeah, I was. Funny that. Everything was going really well, and then my sponsor just opted out. Turned out some of the money I thought had been paid hadn't actually made it into the project account, and I had an awful job making sure everyone got paid. It cost me a lot. That's why I'm so glad this opportunity came up."

"Just out of interest," I ask, a suspicion coming to mind. "Who was your sponsor?"

"Oh, it was a small company, you probably haven't heard of it. I was surprised they were interested in the project in the first place, but you don't ask questions when it comes to a research grant. Hart Brothers they called themselves, but as far as I can tell, the whole company's disappeared."

Now, why does that sound familiar? And of course, there's no reason for them to hide any involvement from me.

"Anyway," Sarah interrupts my thoughts. "I thought I'd let you know I'm here, going through your case notes so I can get right to work on Monday morning. I was surprised you didn't want to meet me, but your assistant gave me all the passwords and keys and so on, so I'm fine."

I could argue, go in there and tell Sarah that none of this is my idea, but I don't. I've got myself into this, and I'm going to have to get myself out of it, whatever it ends up being. I suspect that my 'assistant' might turn out to be Lilah Morgan, and I'm seething at the idea that she could just hand my business over to someone else. But that's between Lilah and me.

"So," Sarah goes on. "I'll take good care of everything for you until you get back. I have to say, I'm jealous. Twelve months to travel the world - I'd love to be able to do that some time. I'll keep things running smoothly for when you get back. I've even got some ideas to maybe enlarge things so you might want to keep me on when you get back. But now I'm getting ahead of myself. Go, and enjoy your adventure. I'll take care of everything here."

"Thanks, Sarah," I tell her. Whatever else, as far as I can tell, she's genuine, and as much a victim in this as I am if my suspicions regarding her sponsor are justified.

We say goodbye, and I put the phone down. I'm still pondering the conversation when Spike comes in and sits close to me.

"So," he says, "how're we going to play this? I didn't get a chance to read the background information you got. Where are we supposed to meet up with these demons?"


	16. Chapter 16 The Good Life

****

Chapter 16 - The Good Life

He's so matter of fact, that it sounds unreal. "Well," I start, almost afraid to admit the truth. "I haven't really read what Lilah sent. We'll have to wait until Wes gives it back."

"Oh, so you haven't changed that much."

He's looking at me with a half-smile, and I laugh at it. 

"So, what's been happening?" he asks.

I look at him blankly.

"Well, I know a bit about what happened, that you made it out of Sunnydale, and the witch, and Dawn …"

He pauses then, looking sheepish. It takes me a moment to realise why.

"How do you know Dawn made it?" I ask.

"Looked through the numbers on your phone. Had to make sure she was ok."

Going through my things, now why does that sound so familiar?

"You could have asked," I point out.

"Yeah, but, I didn't want to talk to you. I was, … scared. Still am, but it looks like we're going to be working together, so …"

I tell him how Dawn's been doing, and he beams with an almost fatherly pride. I make a mental note to tell Dawn he's back. I don't know how she'll react, but I do know she'll kill me if she hears it from someone else. I go on from there to telling him what I know about the others. When I get to Xander, he grunts.

"Best place for the boy," he murmurs. "Out of it. Was never really cut out for it, and with one eye, he'd be easy prey. How about his bird?"

It's funny, I haven't thought a lot about Anya for a while. I suppose it was the spell that meant she didn't figure at all, but now that I'm reminded, I feel the familiar pang of regret. It's regret that I didn't do enough for her while she was around, that I resented her rather unusual outlook on life.

"Anya didn't make it." It's a stark statement, but I find it hard to say more.

"I'm sorry about that. Always liked her, even when she was trying to point out how different she was compared with 'us demons'. At least she always said what was on her mind."

"Yeah," I say quietly. Memories of Anya while talking to Spike make me think of the two of them together, and I recall vividly how betrayed I felt when I saw the evidence of the two of them in the Magic Box. I shake my head, forcing myself to remember that I'd told him to move on, that there was nothing between us. But it hurt, and I hated that it hurt, so it gave me one more thing to hold against him.

I look at him, and he's studying me closely. "Still hurts," he comments.

I wonder how he knows what I was thinking about.

"You felt responsible for her."

Oh, that's what he meant. And, of course, he's right. It was sad that she died, but it was worse because I did feel responsible, for her, and all the potentials who suddenly weren't potentials any more but didn't get the chance to go home.

"And you're still doing it."

I must look at him blankly, because he goes on.

"Feeling like you're responsible for the whole world."

"It's funny, I haven't felt like that for a while. Now, I'm back in the fight, and it's hard to stop the old feelings. I was the Slayer, the one and only, and I was responsible. Now, I'm just one of - I don't know how many. But, it's still my job to protect the rest of you - the people who aren't Slayers."

"And you didn't want to tell me what was going on."

"No, I didn't. I … It's just, it's like …" How do I explain this without making him feel like Riley after the 'kitteny' comment?"

"I know how you feel, you know. I understand it. Don't like it, and I'm not going along with it, but I do understand. You don't want to be responsible for me, so don't be. I'm going into whatever we're getting into with my eyes open. You aren't responsible."

I wish it was that easy. I try to smile, but I'm not sure that it comes across the way I intended.

"So, want to call the Watcher and find out what we're going to do?"

"Yeah, that'd be a good idea," I answer.

~~~~~

A couple of hours, and a walk in the sunshine later, we're at Wes and Gina's. And can I say, walking with Spike, outside, in daylight? Big buzz. He had this smile on his face, well, until he saw me looking, then he reverted to 'Big Bad' face, with that impatient scowl he uses when he's trying to hide his feelings.

Wes is quite excited about what he's been reading, but goes straight into detailing his conversation with Giles while Gina gets coffee.

"I was right," he tells us. "The information on Carnolan demons only comes from a single source, but it's one that in other respects, is completely reliable."

"Stands to reason," Spike comments. "If you want to make sure it's believed, you'd hardly put it in the National Enquirer."

"True, but I still think we should acquaint ourselves with all the information available, whether it turns out to be accurate or not."

"Didn't say any different, did I, Watcher?"

Wes bristles at the title, and Spike seems to notice, because he adds, "Wes."

"So," I decide to intervene. "What did Giles have to say?"

"Well, he checked out the text, and it agrees pretty closely with what we were given. Maybe too closely."

"No, not about that. What did he say about Spike being back?"

"He didn't actually express an opinion. I suspect you'll be hearing from him soon. He was disappointed, though, that you've become involved with all this."

I suspect that the disappointment is also to do with Spike being back. Even now, after all this time, even though Spike was the reason we got out of Sunnydale alive, he doesn't want me involved with him.

Spike puts a hand on my shoulder, the gesture comforting, and I know he can sense my feelings of frustration. Regardless of our history and the fact that he was part of a plan to destroy Spike, I still instinctively want Giles' approval. Of course, it doesn't actually matter any more. Once, I hid my involvement with Spike from my friends because I knew they wouldn't approve. Now, if only I knew for sure what our relationship was, I'd shout it from the rooftops, and the fact that he's human now actually doesn't make the slightest bit of difference to that.

I make an effort to stop dwelling in the past or in the future or wherever I am, and get back to the reason we're here.

"So, where do we find these demons?"

"Well, the information from both sources agrees that they prefer sparsely populated areas. However, the Wolfram and Hart dossier implies that they've taken over the running of one of the more prestigious hotel complexes in Las Vegas."

"They like somewhere quiet, so they set up in Las Vegas?" I ask.

"Apparently they've been, I suppose you'd say, silent partners in a number of businesses for some time. The fact that they're becoming more open is one of the key concerns of the Senior Partners. Well, that and the fact that they've recently become aware of just how much money they have at their disposal."

"So, how do these demons cope with running hotels? What do they look like?"

"Well," Wes answers, "the details I've got are pretty vague. The best quote is that they look 'humanoid'."

"So, do they look human or humanoid? Is there some way of telling by looking at them?" I demand.

"Not as far as I know," Wes admits. "The information in the dossier pretty much implies that they'll look human."

"So, how do I contact them?" I ask.

"The suggestion here," Wes answers, pointing at the paper in front of him, "is that you book an extended stay at this hotel. It's called the Dolce Vita. It's Italian themed, and, apparently rather luxurious. I looked up the details online."

He hands me some pages, complete with photos of a hotel whose lobby could probably encompass some medium-sized towns. The photos of the suites look similarly grand.

"Eh," I manage, looking at the rates. "I'm not exactly destitute, but I can't afford an extended stay at this place."

"Then it's just as well Wolfram and Hart is paying. And, they'll also give you an expense account with enough money that you don't draw attention to yourself."

Gina's looking over my shoulder at the pictures, and I've got to say, she's looking rather wistful. Spike's expression is different. He looks excited.

"What?" I ask.

He grins. 

"Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

"Well, an extended stay in a place like that? Sounds like fun. And all those casinos. I could probably make myself a pretty sum once I get started. Oh, and a bit of violence thrown in. Sounds like the ideal holiday."

"It isn't going to be a holiday, er vacation," I remind him.

"Speak for yourself. You're not the one who's been doing nothing for the past few years."

"And anyway, who says you're going?" I demand.

"Not going to start all that again, are you? Besides, it makes sense. Single woman, on her own in a place like that, you're going to stand out. A couple, on the other hand …"

He's right. And, the prospect of sharing the trip with him is looking positively attractive right now.

"Oh, that's good," he interrupts my thoughts.

"What?"

"Look at that. They've got private gyms. You can hire them, and use them without anyone else being around. Sounds like the perfect place for you to work out too. All this office work's probably made you soft."

Soft! Me? "Not too soft to save you the other night," I remind him.

"Aw, that? I'd have finished them. I was just a bit slower than usual because of the drinks I'd had."

"If I hadn't arrived when I did …"

"Ok, you two," Gina holds a hand up. "Some couple you're going to make if you argue like that."

I smile at her, but the truth is, I've been enjoying the argument. It feels like old times, and by the look on Spike's face, he feels it too.

"Buffy," Wes breaks into my thoughts. "I'd suggest you let me look into things for another couple of days before you go to Las Vegas. I'll organise the booking, and the Wolfram and Hart funds for you while I've still got access to those things. I'd be happier doing it myself than leaving it to Lilah, just in case."

"Fine," I answer. "Sounds like I'm going to have to do some shopping anyway. I mean, if I'm going to look like I belong in a place like that …"

Wes looks at me, as if he's daring me to continue, but Gina pipes up. "I think you should get her an advance, Wes. It's all part of the job after all." 

He looks from one of us to the other, and sighs deeply.

"And I suppose you're planning on accompanying her on this shopping trip?"

"Naturally," she answers. 

He sighs again, this time with resignation. "Ok, but remember, you're not going to Las Vegas, so you won't need to dress the part."

"As if I'm going to spend serious money while I look like a whale," she huffs at him.

"You don't, and never could look like a whale," he answers, kissing her on the cheek. Gina has other ideas, though, and turns her head to kiss him full on the mouth.

"I think it's time we were going," Spike remarks, with a sideways glance at the other couple.

Wes pulls away, looking embarrassed.

"No, there's no …" he mutters.

"Was there anything else you wanted to tell us right now?" I ask.

"Well, no, but …"

"Then Spike's right. We should go."

I turn to look at Gina who winks at me conspiratorially. "I'll call you when Wes's got the money for our shopping trip."

"Do that," I answer.

Neither of them follows us to the door, so I assume Gina must have grabbed Wes again.

"Nice lady," Spike comments as we get to the street.

"Gina? One of the best," I agree.

"So, you ok with this?"

"What?"

"Playing at being a couple. If it's too difficult, we could try something different."

"I thought you were the one who was all for it."

"I am. It's the safest option, but if you don't want to share a room with me, I'd understand."

"Where did I spend the night before the final battle against the First? Why would you think I'd have a problem?"

"Don't know. Just thought I should give you an option."

"My option would be to have you safe somewhere."

"Not going to happen."

"Then, I'd rather have you where I can keep an eye on you."

"Fine."

There's silence for a few moments, then he adds, "Does that mean I need more clothes too?"


	17. Chapter 17 Money to Burn

Chapter 17 - Money to Burn

Gina and I set out on our shopping trip a couple of days later. Wes still wants to do some work before we go to Vegas, but he has managed to get his hands on enough money to make my monthly outlay look a bit basic.

To Spike's intense disappointment, Wes gave me the money in the form of a credit card, with strict instructions that Spike wasn't to touch it. So that's why he's skulking beside Gina and me as we look through the latest collections. 

Things have been better the last couple of days. I don't think either one of us is exactly comfortable yet, but he seems much more like his old self. At least … he's like an amalgamation of his old selves.

The soul changed him when he first got it. He became more emotionally vulnerable than he had been, and he lost some of the natural exuberance that had always been his trademark. Of course, before he saved the world, he got a lot of that back, but there was still something about him - a lack of confidence perhaps - and to a large extent that's still present - maybe even worse than in those last days.

I don't think it's the soul that's responsible now, though. This time, it's his humanity. He seems to be just waiting for me to do or say something that will vindicate his own belief that human-Spike isn't worthy of love. And if I ever get my hands on the people who made him feel that way, then I might not be responsible for my actions.

So, as I said, here we are. And it's putting a bit of a damper on things having him standing around. He seemed interested at first, but as the morning's gone on, and we've moved from store to store, he's just become more and more irritating.

"Ok, Spike," I say, putting the dress I'd been admiring back on the rack. "Let's do some shopping for you. Then, if you want, you can go home and leave Gina and I to finish."

"If you don't mind," Gina smiles at me, "I'll go and sit down and have a drink."

"Gina, you should have said you were tired!"

"Buffy, I'm fine, and I wouldn't miss this for anything. Getting to spend this much money on clothes even by proxy? I'm going to remember this for a long time. But, you and Spike should go and look at things for him. What do you have in mind anyway?"

"I can talk too," Spike reminds us. "And it doesn't matter what Buffy has in mind, because I'm going to decide what I wear. Now, there was that coffee place we passed a couple of minutes ago - would that be ok?"

He's ignoring me, and talking directly to Gina.

"Yeah, that'd be fine."

"Ok, why don't I escort you there, while Moneybags here pays for whichever fripperies she's chosen. Then I'll meet her outside of here in five minutes."

"I don't need an escort," Gina reminds him.

"Of course you don't. Doesn't mean you don't get one."

And, just like that, they're off, and I'm left there feeling forgotten. Still, it's probably better this way. If we can get rid of Spike, then Gina and I can go and look at some more personal stuff. Of course, the idea of Spike seeing that sort of thing is distinctly pleasurable, but I'd rather that the first time he sees them, I'll actually be wearing them.

Spike returns as he said he would, although it seems closer to fifteen minutes than five. I decide not to say anything about that, and instead ask him, "Ok, what did you have in mind?"

He immediately points to a store across the way. I follow the line of his finger, and sigh deeply. It sells leather, and while Spike in leather is definitely something to be encouraged, I can't help but think it's not right for the current situation.

"Maybe later, Spike," I tell him, waiting for the rejoinder, but instead he grins at me. I ignore this unexpected reaction, and make a suggestion of my own. "You're going to need at least one suit, and a couple of formal shirts and ties, but the rest can be casual, providing it's upscale enough. Let's start in that department store over there, see what they've got."

He shrugs, and we walk to the men's department. I ignore the more basic makes, and head for the designer things. I start picking out casual shirts in a variety of shades - from navy to cornflower blue, teal to maroon. He picks out some black and red. I decide to let the black go - I mean, Spike and black, they sort of go together, but the red just looks - tacky. I point out a burgundy colour instead, and he shrugs and accepts it.

Next, we go and look at pants. He steers towards jeans, but I persuade him to look at some classier stuff, chinos and the like. He huffs a bit, but eventually accepts a few suggestions, then goes off to try them on.

Spike in colours - it's a revelation. Actually, now that he's got a bit of colour in his skin, the black is a little harsh, while a dark navy is much more flattering. Still, if I can get him out of jeans and t-shirts, it'll be a start.

I suppose I should have known it, but I don't think there's a blue he doesn't look terrific in. Even he seems rather pleasantly surprised. I suppose the whole 'no reflection' thing makes it hard to see what suits you, and despite the fact that there're a few recognisably Spike items in the mix, I pronounce myself happy with what we buy.

"Ok," I say, as we pick up our bags. "We need the suit."

"Why?" he asks.

I just glare at him.

"Why would I need a suit? I'm assuming our purported reason for being in Vegas is for a holiday, so why would I need a suit?"

"I just thought …"

"What? That you'd like to dress me up like one of those stupid dolls?"

"No, it's just …"

"I'm not wearing a suit, and that's flat. So, anything else you think I should have?"

He looks determined, and I'm tempted to argue, but he's right. A suit probably isn't necessary, much as I'd love to see him in one.

"Ok, what about underwear, and something to sleep in?"

"Don't wear any, as you jolly well know."

"I know he … Spike didn't, but I thought, maybe, as a human, it'd be … more comfortable."

"I won't deny it was easier before, but I'm not about to change the habits of a century."

"Ok," I shrug. "So, anything else?"

"A nice watch might be a good idea."

I think about it. He's right, he could do with a watch, and a run of the mill Casio just wouldn't look the part.

"Ok," I agree, casting around for a jewellers.

"Passed one back a ways."

"Oh," I remember. "What time did you say we'd meet Gina?"

"Didn't. No point in her hanging around if we get delayed. Said we'd call her when we've finished."

I feel a pang of envy. He's being so thoughtful of Gina, more so than he's been of me since he came back. I know, pregnant lady, and in his time, pregnant ladies were expected to sit around a lot with their feet up, so I get his feelings. Just wish they were directed at me.

And then I make the connection. I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me, but the thought of Spike treating me like that, follows on to the idea of me being pregnant. With his child. With Angel, well, before he had other ideas, being pregnant was something for the distant future, when he'd won his reward. With Spike, that possibility is immediate, or at least it would be, if he could only accept my feelings for him aren't mistaken.

I realise he's looking at me quizzically, so I pull my mind back to the present.

"What's the smile for?" he asks.

Smile? I was smiling? Can't tell him the truth, so I desperately think of an alternative.

"I was just thinking I might see something in the jewellers too."

"Oh, yeah. Something with diamonds, and white gold."

He says that as if it's something he's thought about, and I don't mean in the last few minutes.

He looks away when I scrutinise his face, as if he realises he gave away more than he intended.

We pass the leather store as we walk, and I can't help but notice the look he gives a jacket in the window. Although it's leather, it's very different from the coat he always wears - it's cut like a suit coat, short and it would look great on him. We walk past, and he doesn't say anything, so I decide not to let him know I noticed.

We arrive at the jewellers, and it doesn't take Spike long to find a watch that meets his requirements. But then again, why he needs water resistance to that depth, I can't begin to understand. I've been browsing around while Spike was choosing, but I was keeping an eye on him, so I haven't seen very much. Having made his choice, Spike whispers something to the assistant who gives me a knowing look before disappearing.

"What did you say?" I ask.

"Just asked him to bring out something for you to try."

"What? I can't choose for myself?"

"Course you can, Pet. You've got the card, after all. Just, humour me, and try this. Spotted it when we first came in, and thought you'd like it."

The assistant returns with an ensemble that's simply lovely, and beautifully simple. As he suggested, it's white gold, and it consists of earrings, a necklace and bracelet. The earrings are of a simple drop design, with small, but beautifully cut diamonds at the bottom. The bracelet is made of plates, and every third one is set with a diamond to match the earrings, although a little bigger. The necklace is a bigger version of the bracelet, with the addition of a drop pendant which is spectacular.

I try it on, and admire myself in the mirror supplied. It's really beautiful, but one glance at the price tag, and I know the advance Wes gave me won't cover it. I make appropriately appreciative noises, but reject it. While the assistant is returning it to its home, I tell Spike it's too expensive.

"For now, maybe," he shrugs. "Come and look at this."

He drags me over to another display, and points out another set. It's actually somewhat similar in design, although on a smaller scale. There are small diamonds on the earrings, and there's a much smaller drop pendant on the necklace, but otherwise it's unadorned. Beautiful as the other set was, this one is actually more attractive. The price is still more than I would have considered, so I compromise and just get the necklace and earrings. I can't help but think a bracelet would actually get in the way if I have to fight.

We emerge a short while later with our purchases. Spike took my cell phone out of my purse while I was paying for things, and he's chatting to Gina when I emerge.

To hear his side of the conversation, you'd think they'd been friends for years, and again, I feel a pang of jealousy, and then guilt. I'm jealous of the easy camaraderie they seem to have developed, and guilty because he never had friends before. No, that's not true, he had Clem, but I'm not sure he'd have described his other poker buddies as friends. Before, my friends either tolerated him or hated him, and I never had to worry about feeling unimportant to him. Apart from that time with Anya, he never gave me any reason to doubt that I was the centre of his world.

Now, he's got everything. I shudder when I realise that he could walk away from me and find someone else. He could make a life with another woman, have a family, the whole package. The idea leaves me chilled.

"Cold, Pet?" he asks. He's finished talking to Gina, and he's looking at me with a mixture of concern and surprise on his face. I hadn't realised that the chill had actually caused me to shiver.

"It's just the air conditioning - it's a bit on the cold side."

"Mm hmm. Here, want my coat?"

"No, I'm fine. Let's go and meet Gina."

"Ok," he agrees, and we go back the way we've come.

"Feeling better?" I ask when I see her.

"Yeah, I'm good to go. Did you get what Spike needed?"

"Some of it," I agree. "We may need another trip later."

"We're through," he disagrees. "So, if you ladies don't mind, I'm going to toddle off back home."

We say our goodbyes, and Gina and I head off to look for some special underwear. On the way there, we pass the leather store again, and I drag Gina inside. When we emerge, we're carrying the jacket he admired. I've taken his size from the shirts we bought, and I'm just hoping that it's right for the jacket too.

We walk in silence for a few seconds, but she's biting her lip. I'm just about to ask what's up, when she breaks the silence.

"You know, Buffy, there's something I don't understand."

"What's that?" I ask.

"It's … Look, if I say this wrong, it's going to sound very critical, and I don't mean it that way. Try to remember that."

"Ok," I reply, my curiosity piqued, but unsure what she means.

"Well, tell me, is Spike different than before?"

"Different? In what way?"

"Any way."

"Well, it depends on when you're talking about. I mean, when I first met him, he was all about killing me."

"Well, since you knew he loved you."

I think about it. "There've been some changes, especially when it comes to how he's tried to show me that he loved me, but since the last couple of years? Not so much. It was like he had to get used to human ways of doing things, but inside, he's pretty much the person he always was."

"Then, I'm wondering why things went so wrong between you. It's just, he's so … likeable. I mean, he's intelligent, thoughtful, funny, and it's obvious he worships you…"

"Huh," I reply before I can stop myself.

"What's happened?" she asks, her voice full of artificial tolerance.

"Nothing, it's just, he's been turning on the charm for you, hasn't he?"

"You're jealous!"

"No, well, yes. I suppose I am. I never felt like I had to share him before. He was mine, and no one else wanted him. Now, he's going to have lots of friends, and …"

"And you don't think you can compete?"

I don't say anything, knowing that she's got it right.

"Buffy," she says, stopping and putting a hand on my shoulder so we're facing one another. "He's terrified, and he's scared of being human, but his love for you shines out above everything else. You'll have to get used to sharing him, though. I mean, he's going to need friends too. He's going to have to get a job, find out who he is now. You had a chance to do it, and you have to let him do it too."

"But," I answer. "What will I do if he finds out who he is and realises he doesn't love me any more?"

"If it happens, you'll just have to accept it. But, if you want my opinion - not going to happen. He needs to readjust, but I think he's the type that loves forever."

"I hope so, … It's just, I thought, I'd get him back, and tell him that I loved him, and that'd be it. I didn't think I'd have to … "

"Win him?" she offers.

Yeah, that's it exactly. I took his feelings for granted for so long, and now I can't. It's going to take some readjustment. But, the Slayer never was one to run from a challenge.

We reach our destination, and laugh our way through an hour. Still, I'm able to get some things that, if only I get the chance to model them for him, should make sure Spike won't be looking too closely at anyone else.


	18. Chapter 18 Warning and Trust

_Thanks to both Eurydice and i_digress_uk for their help on a tricky wording problem in this chapter. And, of course, to t_geyer for her help on this and every chapter. _

_In other news, my support services subscription runs out at the end of this month. If you have me on author alert, you won't be getting emails after that date unless you have support services yourself. If you want to know when I update, there is a subscription option at my site - the address is on my profile page. I always update the two sites together, so it'll also let you know when I've updated here._

_Thanks for all the feedback so far - I really do appreciate it._

Chapter 18 - Warning and Trust 

It's late when I finally get home. Gina and I finished our shopping, then went to get something to eat. We talked a lot more over our meal, and by the end of it, I was feeling happier. I sometimes wonder why Gina never got into counselling - she seems a natural to me. She put me straight on some things, and her belief that Spike's love for me is obvious made me feel a lot better.

I hear the TV as soon as I open the door, and I recognise the show immediately. Not that I would have just a short while ago, but since Spike's been living here, it's become a regular fixture. 

I dump my purchases in my bedroom, and take the jacket out of its wrappings. I hang it over the closet door and admire it for a moment, wondering when I should let him see it. I feel awkward about it now, almost afraid of his reaction, and put it in with my own things until I decide how to do it.

I go into the living room, greet him to be answered by a grunt, and proceed into the kitchen to get myself a soda. I go back, and sit down beside him. He doesn't seem to notice me, so I watch the show with him.

Well, no, I'm not really watching the show. But, sitting here with him, it actually gives me a feeling of security I didn't even know I was missing. The show breaks for commercials, and he turns to me, favouring me with his attention.

"So, how'd the shopping go? Manage to clear out the cash?"

"No, we didn't, but I think I got enough for now. Did Wesley call?"

"No, heard nothing from the Watcher. But then, since you were out with his missus, he may have guessed you'd not be in."

"He could have called to talk to you," I remind him.

"And I was supposed to be of the shopping party, until I started losing brain cells too quickly and decided to abandon you."

"It wasn't that bad," I argue, and he fixes me with a look that makes it perfectly clear that he doesn't agree. I shrug.

"It's not like you tried to persuade me to stay," he continues.

"Well, there're some things it's better to shop for without male interference."

It's fleeting, but I'm sure I see him redden at those words. He turns away, walking to the kitchen, asking if I want anything. I tell him I don't, and he disappears for a few minutes, only to reappear when his show starts again. There's no remaining sign of whatever it was, if it even was at all.

"Is there anything else you thought of?" I ask, when the show finally ends. "You know, any clothes that could be useful?"

He looks at me, as if weighing up whether or not I'm trying to make a point, but it doesn't seem like he sees anything like that on my face, because he answers a moment later.

"Well, " he pauses, then goes on. "There is one thing I didn't think of. You know, being in California, it's not as if you have any real weather, if you know what I mean. But sometimes, at night, it'd be good to have a jacket - nothing fancy mind, just something to keep the breeze off. Never mattered too much when I was room temperature - I suppose it takes a bit of getting used to. The coat - well, let's say it's seen better days, and there are times when it almost gets in the way."

I grin, wondering at the fact that he's giving me the perfect opening. I don't say anything, just get up and go into the bedroom. I lift the jacket out of my closet, smoothing down the leather as I do so. It's stiff, unyielding, and very different from the coat, but then, that's hardly surprising. I walk back to him, surprised to note that I'm nervous. I'm unsure how he's going to take it. Am I organising him too much? Did he look at it in the window thinking it was hideous? I swallow hard, and go back into the living room.

"Would this do?" I ask. There's no reply, and I don't dare look at his face to see if there's a reaction there. "If it's no good, I can always take it back, and you can choose something for yourself. I mean, if you don't like it."

I look at him, and he's standing beside me. I didn't hear him getting up. He holds out a hand to take the jacket from the hanger, and I hazard a glance at his face. I'm still mystified. He doesn't look happy, but then he doesn't look angry either. He unbuttons the jacket, and slips it on. Of course, I didn't imagine him wearing it with the usual black on black ensemble, but I'm relieved to note that it's a perfect fit.

He flexes his shoulders, rolling them, getting a feel for the jacket. He looks down, and I realise he's trying to see how it looks.

"There's a mirror in my closet," I offer. "Only one for now, but it'll give you an idea …"

He nods, not speaking, and I lead him into my room. I open the closet door, and he stands in front of it, smoothing the leather with his hands.

"Hard to get used to," he offers.

What? Me buying him coats? Well, yeah. Then he continues.

"Having a reflection. You get so you make yourself believe it doesn't matter, but deep down, it does. Gets so you avoid places with mirrors, and if you can't avoid them completely, you make sure you don't look."

"So, there's an upside to being human?" I ask.

"To make up for the getting older and dying, and being easy prey for any big bads around? Doesn't seem like a lot."

"Hard to believe, seeing you looking at yourself like that."

He turns from the mirror, and I metaphorically kick myself since it seems I've said the wrong thing. Again. In an effort to change the subject, I ask, "So, is the jacket ok? Like I said, I can take it back."

"Jacket's perfect, Pet. Admired it when we were out. Didn't think you'd notice. Was a time you wouldn't have."

And of course, he's right. There was a time when all that interested me about Spike's clothing was whether or not he was wearing any. Oh, and watching muscles rippling under a tight T shirt, and wondering how he actually got into jeans that tight.

"You really like it?" I ask, my voice soft. 

"That I do, Pet. It's right natty. I'll be suited and booted in this."

Now what on earth does he mean by that? My confusion must be obvious.

"You'd think, number of years you spent with Giles, you'd have picked up a bit of the English language."

"There's nothing wrong with my use of the English language," I protest, and he grins, and I realise I'm smiling again too.

"If you say so, Pet. If you say so."

We go to our beds soon after that, each to our own rooms. I spend a few moments looking through the underwear I bought, trying to imagine Spike's reaction to it, but I give up. I need to stop torturing myself like that. If Gina's right, and we're going to be able to find a way to be together, then it'll happen. If it doesn't, then I'll just have to deal.

My mind flips back to just after Riley left. I can look at that now and realise that he did both of us a favour. And Xander nearly made me make a serious mistake. If I'd managed to stop Riley that night, it would only have prolonged the agony for both of us. I was so desperate for normal then, and he seemed my best hope.

I remember visiting a convent - I mean, I was chasing a demon, and that's why I was in the area, but I actually asked one of the nuns about the whole 'doing without men' thing. Not going to try anything like that again.

I pull on a tank top and shorts. I climb into bed, and toss and turn for a while before eventually managing to sleep.

I know it's a dream, but it seems so real it hardly matters. I'm in the bathroom, in the house on Revello.

I haven't thought about that night for so long, but every detail is crisp and clear. I feel the pain in my back from being thrown against the head stone. Spike comes in, and I'm my usual bitchy self, telling him to leave me in peace. I see something snap in him, as if he's been holding the demon back with sheer force of will, and then he's pulling at my clothing, trying to make me see that I care about him. I'm struggling, but this time, it's as though either he's stronger or I'm weaker, because I can't push him away.

And then the scene changes. I'm no longer in the bathroom, but in my bedroom, my here-and-now, LA bedroom. I'm lying in my bed, and Spike's there, pulling the straps of my tank top down my arms, then giving up and just snapping them.

I can see his face then, human, but there's no sign of lust or anger or any of the things I remember from before. The expression on his face is absolute terror. I think it's then I realise I'm not dreaming.

The tank top's been pulled down, and he's struggling with my shorts, and I'm still trying to stop him. Somehow, now I know I'm awake, it's easier, and I manage to push him away. He lands in a heap on the floor, and I pull a sheet around myself. He's shaking his head, and I'm about to ask him what's happening when he speaks.

"Slayer," he starts. It's his voice, and the intonation he used back in the days when killing me was a major pre-occupation. The look of terror is still there, in his eyes, and my heart goes out to him as he speaks again, his voice more measured, almost slightly stilted.

"I think you've been wasting time. You've got a job to do, and if you don't get on with it, this will seem like a pleasant interlude compared with what I'll make him do next. Did you know that he remembers every person he killed? Every person he hurt? He's got it all stored in his head, and I don't even have to imagine anything, all I have to do is persuade him to act out one of his memories. You know what that could mean, don't you?" He's got some absolutely delicious memories.

It takes me a moment to realise what's happening. Lilah. Once I've done that, I manage to answer.

"Leave him alone. You've got a problem with how I'm doing the job, you take it out on me. He wasn't part of the deal."

"Ah, but he was. Remember, I can control him. It's even fun. But I won't unless you make me do it."

"But he's human, he hasn't got the strength to hurt people like he used to have." I'm grasping for anything to stop her doing as she's threatened. There's a pause then, as though Lilah is thinking about something.

"Ah, but you're wrong. I can make him as strong as I need him to be. Of course, it's not going to do his body any good - that's why people are generally limited in strength, but it's possible to tap into reserves, for a short while anyway. And, if I need to, I will."

I know she's gone by the way Spike slumps. He dissolves into tears, shaking and murmuring the same words over and over.

"Couldn't stop her. Sorry, sorry, tried, couldn't."

I pull the sheet tighter around me, quickly tying it, and sit on the floor next to him. I put my arms around him, and hold him tight. At first, he pulls away, and the muttered words change to "Don't, don't, don't deserve."

I hold him tighter still, as tight as I dare, and stroke his hair.

"It wasn't you, I know that. You're not to blame."

He looks at me, and his eyes are full of self-loathing. "But it was, Buffy. It was what I tried to do to you before. She's right - she didn't give me the idea. That came from in here."

As he says that, he points towards his own head.

"I was going to force you, to show you, part of me was watching, trying to stop myself. I just wasn't strong enough."

"It doesn't matter, Spike. It's over, and it wasn't real. Just Lilah messing with your mind. She can do that, you know. I mentioned it when I told you about the amulet. Wes is working on a way round it, and Willow said she would too, so it's only for a while."

"But, Buffy, first, I was in your … bathroom. I thought it was a dream, but then it changed."

"I know, I dreamt about it too. Seems she can also get into my mind."

"I'm sorry," he says again. "I know it doesn't mean anything, saying sorry for trying to hurt you like that, but I am sorry."

"I just said, it wasn't real."

"The first time, it was. I'm sorry."

"What? For turning the tables on me? Our relationship then was built on violence." 

"I know," I say quickly before he can interrupt. "I was the one who kept the violence going when you would have changed things. I did a lot of thinking after Sunnydale, and I know that you were driven to do that. I'm not saying it wasn't wrong, but you did so much trying to keep your demon in check, and what credit did we give you? None. Hardly surprising it managed to escape its leash. And I pushed you away, remember? And you knew I could, just like I knew I could. I was never really in any danger that night, and, shocked as I was, I did know that."

He's shaking now, and I realise that he's coming up in goosebumps over his chest and arms. He's only wearing his jeans, but they've been hastily pulled on, and the zipper's still open. Whatever else I do, I can't leave him shivering like that.

"Just a moment, Spike," I tell him, getting up and going to my drawer where I find some exceedingly frumpy pyjamas. You know, the sort of thing you wear when the cramps are bad, or you're just feeling rotten. Comfort clothes. I go into the bathroom and pull them on, then go back into my room. 

He's sitting where I left him, and if he even noticed I'd gone, he's giving no sign of it. I pull him up, finding it surprisingly difficult, even though he's not resisting. I pull him towards my bed, and push him onto it.

"Buffy, no," he says, realising at last what I'm doing. "You can't trust me. I've got to go."

"No," I answer simply. "You're staying here. Lilah would expect you to leave, or me to throw you out, so that's exactly what we're not doing."

"But after …"

"After what? If it happens again, I can stop you. We proved that."

"But …" he starts, but I'm not going to listen to him giving me chapter and verse on why this isn't a good idea.

"Stay with me, Spike? Just hold me. Please. I need to know you're there."

And, as I knew he would, he nods his head. While he thought I was doing it for him, he'd never agree. Doing it for me, though, is another matter. The silly thing is, that although I really do want to have him here, he needs this more than I do. He needs to know, to feel that I trust him. And I do.


	19. Chapter 19 Sleeping and Waking

****

Chapter 19 - Sleeping and Waking

Spike falls into a restless sleep almost immediately. My mind is going over what happened, and I resolve to contact both Wes and Willow first thing in the morning. If there's no way of getting this control clause removed, the only other option we've got is leaving for Las Vegas immediately.

I think about what happened, and while it's true that it could have been worse, it was a pretty drastic show of power. No one was really hurt, well, not physically, but the blow to Spike's sanity must have been severe. He's so fragile - more than I ever realised before. It's different than Angel. I know he spent a long time after he was cursed, eating rats and listening to Barry Manilow. I also know he resented the fact that Spike seemed to cope with his soul so much more quickly. He took it to mean that Spike's guilt was somehow less than it should have been, but the truth was that they're just such different personalities. Angelus' evil was more … considered. He planned things, milking the maximum amount of suffering out of what he did. It's almost as if he has to feel remorse in the same way - by a deep consideration of it all. I think that's why he broods so much.

Spike's different. His evil was always much more spontaneous. I mean, that much was obvious just in my experience. He could make plans, but he was just too impatient to stick to them. His remorse seems to be different too. He went mad with it for a while, but then again, part of that madness was actually induced by the First, so I don't suppose we'll ever know how he'd have coped without that influence. But, when he realised I needed him, he was there, apparently back to normal, and ready. The damage was done anyway, he just didn't brood about it. It seemed that he could put it behind him. But what Lilah did to him - that was exactly the worst thing she could have done without actually having him kill someone. I wonder why she shied away from that. I mean, it's not as though it's part of her usual MO - minimising the body count. 

Spike is restless, dreaming of - I don't know what - but I'd bet it's not hugs and puppies. He's tossing and turning, moaning, and I know he's in some sort of pain, but I can't do anything to help him.

Spike's body spasms, and as it relaxes, he turns in towards me, as if trying to hide from the world. I tighten my hold on him, and he seems to settle a bit, snuggling into me, and it feels so good to be able to return some of the comfort he's given me over time. I stroke his hair, gently smoothing it down, and hoping that he finds it as soothing as I do.

Lilah. She's a problem I currently have no idea of how to solve. I just know that the solution needs to include something very painful to make up for what she did to Spike tonight. 

In thinking about causing Lilah pain, I realise I still don't know how to achieve that. I mean, what is she? She's dead, but she's not undead, not in the sense of being a vampire, and I have no idea what she is. 

I get the impression that Wes has been concerned for her. I don't mean when she was alive - they had some sort of relationship then, even though he used that relationship to thwart her. But, from things Gina has said, I think he's still concerned about her. The hold the senior partners have on her seems to be total, and we have no information on what her existence is like. Is she able to enjoy the 'life' that she has? How do the senior partners motivate her to do what they want? Carrot or stick? It's yet another thing to think about, and I feel like my brain is in danger of overloading.

Spike shifts in my arms, and his face appears from where it's been nestled towards me. He's smiling, his face completely different from the pain-filled one I last saw. He looks so much younger. It's the face I used to see, back when he was giving me a reason to stay alive, and before he realised that me seeing him getting joy out of our liaison was a guaranteed way to pain at my hands. I feel another stab of guilt at that thought. When he was chipped, the only people who treated him like he mattered in any way were my mom and Dawn. For the rest of us, he was an object of fun, some extra muscle. Even when I knew I needed him, it was still on the basis that he, personally, had no value. I made it my job to remove any joy he might have felt. 

Sure, he enjoyed a bit of violence, and he used to grin a lot while he was fighting, but what I'm seeing now is different. Not that grin, which was somehow hard, but a smile, gentle, beautiful. It makes my heart contract just to see it. I wish I could see that expression daily, for the rest of my life.

He shifts again, turning towards me, and his hand finds its way under my pyjama top, just to my waist, and I can feel his hand, warm on my skin. I miss this so much. I wish this could be every night, curled together, after …

I force myself to stop thinking that way. I need to sleep, and I force myself to just feel, just enjoy, without any what if's.

I must have slept at last, because the next thing I know is that I'm startled awake when Spike suddenly jerks, and sits up in bed. I open my eyes, and see him take in his whereabouts. There's a ghost of a smile on his face, and I can only assume he's trying to link his current position with a history that would account for it. A fraction of a second later, I know he's made the link, because his face changes to one which looks anything but happy, and it's accompanied by a stiffening of every limb.

I place one hand on his shoulder, and my other arm around his waist, trying to pull him back down to me, but he pulls away, getting out of bed and fastening his jeans.

"Spike," I say, desperate to get him to look at me. "Come back. It's ok."

"It's not ok, Buffy," he disagrees. "And I don't see how it can be, not while some bint's got a free pass into my head and can make me try to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me last night," I remind him.

"Yeah, well, Slayer strength. Next time, she's going to choose some poor bird who hasn't got your advantages. And I'm going to hurt her, because I couldn't stop myself last night, and not hurting you is about the best incentive I've got."

"You're not going to hurt anyone. If I have to knock you out, I'll stop you."

"You can't be with me every second, …"

"I can if I need to, but that won't matter if Wes or Willow come up with a way out of Lilah controlling you. And, if we get on with what she wants, she should leave you alone for a while at least."

He sighs deeply at that, recognising the truth of what I've said, but then he looks over his shoulder.

"Well, I hope you don't mind if I have a few personal moments. Disadvantages of being human and all, but I need to use the bathroom, and a shower might be a good idea."

"Fine," I tell him, settling back down under the covers. "I'll guard the door."

My final comment doesn't even merit a smile. I lie there, trying to relive the feeling of holding Spike in my arms. I inhale deeply, trying to smell him from the sheets, and realise it's different from before. There're similarities, but there's a muskiness that was missing before, making his scent even more distinctive.

When he's finished, I follow him in to shower, and when I'm dressed, I grab some coffee, and I'm about to get something to eat when the phone rings. It's Wes.

"Buffy," his voice is full of concern. "I hear Lilah paid you a visit last night."

"Yeah, how did you know?" I answer, taking the phone to my room.

"I had some business with Angel early this morning. He told me."

"And how did he know?"

"It seems Lilah visited him just after she left Spike alone. Angel's livid, of course, and he's currently planning a way to get Spike out of circulation and keep him that way. It took me some time to get him to calm down enough to make any sense. I've just left his office. Angel's getting ready to send out the troops to find Spike. Do you know where he is?"

"Of course I do. He's here, and if Angel sends his goons after him, they'll have to contend with me."

"Good. Angel assumed he left after what happened. I'd hate to think he was out somewhere in the city alone."

"He wasn't in any state to go anywhere," I tell him. 

"So, what happened?"

"Well, sounds like you already know the highlights. She forced Spike to re-enact something from our past - let's just say it wasn't the brightest moment for either of us."

"And then?"

"And then I spent some time trying to convince Spike that he's not an evil monster. Kind of the opposite of what I used to do. He was so broken by what she did. He seems a bit better this morning, but it's going to take a while before he can put it behind him."

"But he's still there?"

"Yes, he's in the kitchen."

"Good. Look, I'm going to be finished here in a few minutes. Ok if I come round then? I think we need to get moving on things."

"Yes and yes," I agree. "I was going to call you in a few minutes. Oh, and give Angel a message from me, will you?"

"What?"

"Tell him to stay away from Spike. Tell him that if anything happens to Spike, I'm going to stake first and ask questions later."

"I will. See you soon."

While I've got the phone in my hand, I call Willow. She doesn't have any good news, but promises to go on working on the control issue.

True to his word, Wes arrives a short while later. Spike seemed to be avoiding me while we waited, but I didn't push it. Once Wes arrives, he swaggers into the living room. He looks cocky enough to put his vampire-self to shame, but I sense the lie in his demeanour. Wes doesn't say anything, but I see him narrow his eyes as he takes in the changes.

"Ok, Buffy, so how do you want to play this?" Wes asks, as soon as we're settled.

"Well, unless you can tell me that you've found a way round Lilah's ability to get into Spike's head, then I think we should get on with it - leave for Las Vegas today, or at the latest tomorrow."

"I'd hoped to have more time to find out some more about the Carnolan social structure and so on, …"

"There's what Lilah gave me," I remind him.

"But we've no idea how much of that is truth and how much just what they want us to believe," Spike butts in.

"Very true," Wes agrees. "And I understand your haste, but I'd have to advise a slight delay - a couple of days, that would allow me to …"

"Wes," I say, making my voice clear and, I hope, not allowing my internal emotional turmoil to be seen, "if you don't get that booking done today, then I'm going to do it. I want to be at that hotel by tomorrow night, absolute latest. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly," he replies. "I don't think this is the wisest course, but if that's the way you want it …"

"It is."

He nods, starting to get up from where he's sitting. I put a hand on his shoulder before he stands.

"Thanks, Wes. For everything. And especially for not arguing about this."

"Would it do me any good?"

"Not the slightest."

"It seems a wise course to save my energy for a cause I actually have a chance of influencing." He smiles wryly as he says that, then he's back to business.

"I'll get my PA, sorry, my ex-PA to do the booking. Hotel, flight and car hire. I've already obtained a complete set of paperwork for Spike. His background will specify that he's of 'independent means'. That'll account for the money you'll be spending. I'll call you with the flight details as soon as I have them."

"Thanks," I reply, then go to get up, but Wes tells me he can find his own way out. To my surprise, Spike gets up anyway, and when I look at him questioningly, he answers that he needs to 'use the boys'' room.

Once they're in the hallway, I hear voices, so I approach the doorway. I'm not too surprised by what I hear.

"Promise me, mate," Spike's voice.

"I hardly think Buffy would…"

"She wouldn't. But, I need you to promise me. If I hurt her, make sure I can't do it again. I don't care how. Set Angel on me, whatever it takes."

There's silence then, and I assume Wes is stalling, or trying to think of something else to say. 

"I hope I'd find a more … humane way than setting Angel on you. I have memories, recently restored to me, of how he reacted when he believed I was responsible for hurting someone else he loved. But, I promise."

I hear a sharp exhalation from Spike then, followed by both the bathroom and front doors closing. I force the conversation out of my mind for now. If something happens, there'll be time to make sure Wes doesn't keep his promise. In the meantime, I've got packing to do.


	20. Chapter 20 A Change of Scene

Chapter 20 - A Change of Scene

The news that we've got a flight tonight comes quickly, and adds further momentum to my packing. Spike has finished his, apparently, and has been sitting in front of the TV ever since. I get the impression, as I pass through on my way to the kitchen, that he's not actually watching at all. At least, his expression doesn't change to match the canned laughter, and when I glance back towards his face, it actually seems rather glazed. 

It's so frustrating. Someone I love is hurting, and I want to go and hold him, comfort him, but I know that's actually the worst thing I can do right now. He coped with it last night because he was so exhausted, emotionally and physically, but now, at best he'd push me away, and at worst he'd tolerate my touch even if it burned him worse than holy water used to.

I'm actually relieved that we're not going to be here tonight. The idea of spending a night in my room wondering how he was coping in his - well, let's just say I don't want to think about it. Then, on the other hand, it's not going to be easy for him to be with me either, but I'm sure there's something we can arrange that'll make him more comfortable.

Wes and Gina arrive late afternoon with tickets, a cell phone for Spike, and more advice than I can take on board. There's also a little extra for each of us - a pin that can be hidden in just about any piece of jewellery, which will interfere with any listening devices we happen to encounter. Apparently they're a product of both Fred's and Wes' old departments, so they should be proof against both electronic and mystical spying.

Spike's attitude changed as soon as the others arrived, and he's now attentive, and asking questions I hadn't thought of. I even get the impression that Wes is impressed, and that's not easy to do.

Wes starts to give us a quick run down on Spike's 'history', handing over his passport.

"Your name is William Ashcroft, and you are a British citizen. There's also a green card in the bundle, so there shouldn't be any problem about you remaining in this country in the longer term."

Spike's eyes widen at the name, and he seems to be trying to say something, but Wes doesn't notice as he's checking things off on a list in his notes.

"How did you find out?" he asks, his voice quiet.

"What? The name? Oh, I've known for some time. It was one of the things Giles asked me to find out for him - although he didn't tell me why he wanted to know. It turns out that, once he had your name, and knew when you died, he was able to do some hunting around your family history. Your family has consisted of a single line since your death. Your cousin, another William, inherited from your mother, and the most recent member of that family, another William Ashcroft, died childless in an unfortunate accident five years ago. The circumstances were such that there wasn't a body to identify. 

It was the perfect blueprint for giving you an identity and a past. Using that information, I got the experts at Wolfram and Hart to make the required changes, and it now appears that you survived the accident. The money, however, is a complete fabrication, and I've arranged temporary changes to your history to show that it was the bequest of one Jane Daventry, an older woman you worked for. The money is actually expenses paid to you by Wolfram and Hart, but the details are there in case anyone asks."

William Ashcroft. I think about the name, and decide it suits him. He just looks shocked to hear it again after so long.

"I want a different name," he says at last.

Wes looks surprised. "Why? I thought you'd be most comfortable with your own name."

"Because I don't deserve it. Why d'you think I bloody revelled in being called Spike? Because I'd already done enough harm to the name when I killed my own mother, and I wasn't about to do any more."

"I'm sorry, Spike, I can't change it in time for your trip, and I had assumed that you would use this identity in the future, but if you wish, once this job is complete, I can arrange a new identity for you."

He doesn't look convinced.

"Spike," I say, "You've got another chance here. Use the name, and make your life something your mother would have approved of, that would have made her proud."

He laughs at that, but it's a laugh that says he doesn't think it likely.

"Doesn't seem like I've got much choice then, does it? But it's hard to imagine what I could do that would make up for vamping and then dusting her."

"Your motives for that, they were, well, understandable. She was dying and you wanted her to live."

"And I turned her into a monster that'd put even bloody Angelus to shame. Yeah, I did her a real favour."

He gets up then, and leaves the room. 

"The rest of it is pretty simple," Wes continues after a moment. "And it's probably not that important. I'll leave it now. Tell him I'm sorry. I didn't know he would be upset. I only knew that his mother had died at around the time he was sired. There were no suspicious circumstances cited at the time of her death, there are even records of a burial."

"He must have arranged that for her," I realise. "I don't know how he did it, surely there were some checks, death certificates and so on?"

"I'm sure there were, but then it's always possible to terrify someone into doing something. And Spike's always been, well, resourceful."

When Spike returns a few moments later, he's changed. He's still in jeans, but now it's teamed with one of the shirts we bought him, this one in a dark purple colour. If he's still upset about the name, he's doing a good job of hiding it.

"So, when're we leaving for the airport?" he asks.

"In a few moments," Wes replies, checking his watch. "In fact, if we're ready, we might as well leave immediately."

Despite leaving earlier than we intended, we still only make the airport just in time. Our goodbyes to Wes and Gina are hurried, and we dash to check in. Once that's complete, we're directed through security to the first class lounge for the short wait.

Spike seems to have changed during the ride here, because his arm is around my shoulders with casual familiarity while we sit. The only give-away is the fact that I can feel the tension in his body. He's scared to relax in case - well, I don't know for sure what he thinks might happen. It's not like he's likely to attack me in a public place, now is it? I can't imagine even Lilah would think that would help with anything.

The rest of the journey is pretty much like that. The first class treatment might have been more enjoyable if I hadn't been so worried about Spike, but I'd tend to doubt that anyone but me noticed that anything was wrong. He played the part perfectly, rarely out of contact with me, and stopping occasionally to place a kiss on my forehead or cheek.

At last we arrive, the door to our suite is closed, and we're alone. I check out the various rooms, while Spike grabs his bag and takes it into the bedroom. The main room is huge, has a large screen TV, a bar, several very comfortable-looking chairs and what looks like some sort of music system. I go from there to the bathroom, and now I'm really impressed. The tub is huge, and I mean big enough for, well, for things I shouldn't be imagining right now. It's sunk into the floor, and it looks like it's got a jet option. Ranged along one edge are shelves holding an array of pots and potions that're going to take even me a while to get through. I pick one at random and inhale its fragrance. Rose. Pretty much a standard, but lovely just the same.

If I don't get out of here now, I can see it's going to take a while, so I go to take a look at the bedroom. And it's not what I expected. I just assumed there'd be two beds - you know, standard hotel feature. Having said that, the one that's the focal point of the room is huge. It's draped with white lacy coverings, and it's easily the biggest I've seen. Spike must see me looking because he speaks.

"It's ok, Buffy, I'll sleep in the other room, or on the floor."

"Spike, look at the bed, would you? It's big enough I could get lost in it. We can share, and there's no need to get closer than either of us is comfortable with, ok?"

He looks like he's about to argue, then his shoulders relax and he sighs. His expression seems odd considering. If I had to say what I thought it meant, I'd say he's relieved.

"You hungry?" I ask. It's getting late to be eating, but I didn't eat much on the plane, and I'd like something.

"Yeah," he admits. "Want to go out or just get something sent up?"

"I think just get something sent up. I'm kinda tired too, and we've got tomorrow to have a look round."

He nods, and picks up the card next to the bed.

We order some sandwiches, and they arrive remarkably quickly. We go into the living room, and Spike eats his while fiddling with what I took to be a sound system.

"This is pretty good," he says, a hint of enthusiasm back in his voice.

"What, the sandwich?"

He looks at me with that almost pitying expression he always used when someone didn't get something he thought obvious.

"No, this. Looks like I can get pretty much anything I want. The hotel's got a huge collection of MP3s, and I can play them here. Some of these tracks I haven't heard since …"

He stops then, and looks down.

"Since when?" I ask.

"Since Sunnydale, when you and Soldier Boy blew up my collection."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"You didn't really have any choice. I know that. Just, well, didn't feel very clever then."

I must be looking puzzled because he continues.

"Didn't know what those eggs were for. Was keeping them for a mate, like I said, but this mate didn't bother to tell me they had to be kept cool. And he didn't bother to tell me what they were for. All I knew was that I was going to get two hundred bucks a day for storing them."

"You didn't know they were dangerous?"

"Said that, didn't I?'Sides, I'd hardly store something that dangerous anywhere you or Dawn were likely to come, now would I? Might not be the brightest in the box, but I wouldn't take a risk with either of you."

"So, why'd you do it? I mean, I never got the feeling money was that important to you."

There's silence then, and he's shuffling his feet. I cast my mind back to then. That was the time of the dreaded chicken hat. And then I remember. He said he could get money. He said I didn't have to work at the Doublemeat.

"You did it for me, didn't you?"

He doesn't deny it. "Couldn't stand seeing you working in that place. It was wrong. Broke my heart seeing you there, having to deal with the pillocks that came in, always tired, trying to do everything."

"I wouldn't have taken the money, you know."

"I know, but I'd have found a way, something. Even gone to Angel if that's what it took. But then the eggs got blown up, and there wasn't any money, and you said …"

"It's over. I remember."

"And then, selfish git that I am, I spent my time trying to get you back, to make you see, and then other things sort of took over. And you know how that ended."

"Yeah, I know. And that's the point. It ended. It's over. And then we got a chance to start again."

"And who's to say it won't end the same?"

"You do, and so do I. We've both got choices here. It's up to both of us to make sure we don't make the same mistakes again."

He nods then, and turns his attention back to what he's doing. A moment later, the sound of the Ramones is filling the room.

"I'm going to take a bath," I tell him over the noise.

He nods, but seems pretty oblivious to anything other than the music.

The bath is just what I needed. There's a shower cubicle too, and it's a generous size, complete with sprays at various levels, but when it comes to decadence, you can't beat a bath complete with bubbles. As I lie there, I think about what's going to happen, and wonder how long it's all going to take. I mean, all I know is that we're supposed to turn up here, and that somehow, I'll be contacted. What I don't have any idea of is the time it's supposed to take. I mean, it could happen tomorrow, or it could take weeks.

I stifle a yawn and decide I'd better get out before I fall asleep. I dry myself, and pull on the pyjamas and wrap I brought. The pyjamas were a last minute addition to my case, and not new. They're pretty enough, Chinese style top in a satiny material, and pants to match, and they're a lovely shade of dark green. The wrap is black, and was actually bought to go with some of my newer acquisitions, but I suspect if I get into bed in some of those, that Spike'll run a mile.

I go into the bedroom and pull a brush through my hair. The hairdryer supplied is pretty efficient, and in no time I'm ready for bed. I take a look out into the living room when I'm ready, but Spike seems lost in his music. At least he's found some headphones, so I don't have to listen too. I walk to where he can see me and mime my intention to go to bed. He nods, and goes back to moving his mouth in time to whatever is playing.

I go in to the bedroom and make myself comfortable on one side of the bed. Within seconds I'm missing Spike. While the circumstances were far from ideal, the simple fact of sharing a bed with him just felt so good and natural, and I just know that I'm never going to be happy sleeping alone again.

It's much later when I hear him. While I was sleeping, he's come to bed, and he's lying as far from me as he can, but he's shaking, murmuring, sounding afraid. And then, without warning, he's thrashing about. Instinctively, I move towards him, holding him in my arms, and having to use a surprising amount of strength to prevent him from falling off the bed. Almost immediately he stills, and his breathing slows, but now I'm back where I want to be, holding him, and he doesn't seem to have any objections. I consider letting him go and returning to my own side of the bed, but I'm so sleepy that it just seems simpler, to say nothing of much more pleasant, to just close my eyes.


	21. Chapter 21 Further Developments

Chapter 21 - Further Developments

It's dark. Something is stalking me, I feel it, but I have no idea who it is or exactly where they are. I'm concentrating so hard, scanning with everything I've got, but I can't pinpoint it. And then I feel something, just a pinprick in my arm, but my defences crumble, and with them, my will to resist. I'm floating, and any sense of danger gradually dissipates as I relax, and it occurs to me at last that I've been dreaming. 

I come awake suddenly, and every sense is on alert. I consider the possibility that it's just a remnant of my dream, but I know it's not. I do my best to remain immobile, and just carefully open an eye, taking in our surroundings. The bed looks as I remember, as does Spike. Somehow, during the night, our positions have changed, and I'm now wrapped in his arms. My heart's still hammering, my Slayer sense on overload. I move slowly, trying to make it seem natural, and take a look further around the bed, but it all seems as I remembered.

Spike moves suddenly, and his eyes snap open. He takes a moment to take in his situation, then buries his head in the pillow, pausing only to mutter, "Sorry."

Much as I'd like to persuade him that he's got nothing to be sorry for, my Slayer sense is still screaming at me, so I sit up, and look around some more.

There must be something about me that's radiating my concern because Spike swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up too, watching me carefully.

"What's up?" he asks.

"Don't know. Can't see anything, but my Slayer senses are about to overload, and I don't know why."

Spike nods, and goes to pick up a t-shirt to add to the sweat pants he wore to sleep in. I pick up my wrap, and raise my arm to put it on, and I spot a speck of blood on my lower arm. I touch it, noting that the blood's dried. Putting concern about it to one side for now, I approach the door to the rest of the suite, with Spike at my side.

Sitting on our chairs and sofa are three … men. Well, they look like men, but my senses tell me otherwise. They could be brothers, dark brown hair, tanned, brown eyed, wearing identical looking navy blue suits, white shirts and navy ties.

"Would you like to tell me what you're doing here?" I ask, more rationally than I thought I'd manage.

One of them stands, and holds out a hand to me. "We're here to welcome you," he answers, obviously expecting me to shake his hand. I don't. He lowers his arm with a shrug.

"You can call me Aaron," he adds. "My brothers are Benedict and Cornelius. We represent the International Carnolan Government. We have been awaiting your arrival for a long time, Miss Summers."

"Look, I don't know what you've got in mind, but we paid for this suite, and I don't take kindly to finding three strangers in it, so if you'd be so kind as to leave, …" Spike invites in his most gracious, and at the same time menacing sounding voice.

Aaron just smiles. "You can do as you wish, Mr. Ashcroft. It is Miss Summers who is of interest to us."

"Well, Miss Summers would also like you to leave," I add.

"I regret that will not be possible," Aaron replies. "Although we would be happy to wait until you have dressed … more appropriately for company."

"Look," I say. "I don't care what you think you're here to do. If you want to speak to me, you can call, or make some other arrangements. You don't just break into our suite. Whatever it is you want from me, I've got to say, you're not making a very favourable impression."

"However, we are not leaving."

Ok, this is just too much. I approach Mr. Smarmy-face, grab him by the arms, and attempt to propel him toward the door. He doesn't move. He hardly seems to notice that I'm trying to move him.

"Miss Summers, we took the precaution of injecting you with a muscle relaxant while you slept. You are, I believe, familiar with it. It was developed by the Council of Watchers some time ago. We very much want to talk to you, and we'd rather avoid any unpleasantness. So, if I can suggest once again, perhaps you would like to dress and then we can talk."

"You want to avoid unpleasantness, yet you inject me with something against my will?" I demand incredulously. I can feel waves of anger rolling over me, and it's an effort not to just give in to them, even though it doesn't look like it'll do me any good. With an effort, I turn towards the bedroom, and I gesture for Spike to follow me. So much for all our subterfuge. They know exactly who I am, and they haven't wasted any time getting in contact with me.

Once the door's closed, I pull some clothes from the wardrobe. Black leather pants, a cotton top and a leather jacket. I open a drawer and pull out some underwear. I haven't said a word since we came in, and neither has Spike, but then he doesn't have to for me to know how he's feeling. He's as mad as I am.

"Let's get dressed, and go and see what they want," I suggest.

"Doesn't look like we've got much choice," he agrees. "Why'd that bitch bring me back human? If I …"

"Doesn't matter, Spike. Look, let's go along with them for now. It won't be that long till I get my strength back, then we'll reconsider. I'd kinda hoped to be in control going in, but if this is all we've got, then we'll just have to go with it." He nods, then picks out some clean clothes before leaving the room.

"I'll get changed in the bathroom," he says, steeling himself to walk past the three in the living room.

He's there with them when I return, already dressed, and doing his best to exude menace. And his best is pretty good, I've got to admit. Pity it's not backed up by demon strength any more.

Aaron had been sitting when I returned, but he stood as I entered the room. "Now, Miss Summers, let's get down to business. I apologise if you feel we've been less than welcoming so far, but I'm sure, once you've heard what we have to say, that you'll understand our need for caution."

The sofa is vacant, and I gesture for Spike to join me there.

"Ok, I'm listening," I say.

"We did say Mr. Ashcroft is welcome to go. In fact, we would strongly advise that he leave now. If he hears what I have to say, that option will no longer exist."

"I'm staying."

"Spike? Maybe you should …"

"I'm staying."

His arms are folded, and his posture is making it clear that he's not willing to compromise.

"Very well. Now," Aaron gestures to his two companions who get up to stand beside him. "We know why you're here. We know about Wolfram and Hart, and the fact that you are in some way indebted to them. We even know that it has something to do with your companion, but the details are not significant to us. Your arrival among us was foretold many hundreds of years ago. We knew that you would come among us with the intent of destroying us. And that may in fact be the final result of your arrival. However, we believe there is another possibility, one that will destroy, or at the very least, seriously weaken those you refer to as the Senior Partners. We believe that this second possibility would be the better option for humanity as a whole, and we're willing to explain why. When you have heard and seen what you need to, you will be left to come to your decision."

I glance at Spike, and he gives me a forced smile in return. Whatever I expected, it wasn't this.

"You mean, if I don't agree, you'll just let us go?"

"Well, it's not that simple. The prophecy says that you will accompany us, it just neglects to tell the final outcome."

"And the Senior Partners know about this prophecy?" Spike asks.

"We have been careful to hide all the possibilities form them. Let's just say that the version they have allows for only one outcome."

"So I'm just to allow human eating demons to live?" I ask. "Just do nothing about it?"

"I suggest you discover for yourself a bit about our needs before you condemn us out of hand. And you have allowed other such creatures to live before. You have a history of being intimate with those you are purported to slay. Among vampires, Angelus has a fearsome reputation, yet you didn't choose to kill him when you had the opportunity."

"He had a soul."

"Not all the time. And he wasn't the only one, was he? Although the other was different in many ways. He achieved redemption in the end, did he not? And returned as the human at your side. His journey is quite remarkable, and an interesting side note to your own story if not central to it."

"So, what's your story?"

"Now, why would you believe what I say? It would be much more convincing, don't you think, for you to come with us and actually experience our way of life?"

"Now wait a minute," Spike says, his voice loud and strident. "If you think Buffy's going anywhere at all, you've got another think coming. Now, it's time you left."

"As I said, you were welcome to leave, and could still do so if you insist." As he says this, he looks at his two companions who nod, although the one designated Cornelius doesn't look happy about it.

"And I said I wasn't leaving Buffy. Now, get out of here."

"I think not."

The expression on his face is so irritating, I want nothing more than to wipe it off.

"You can either come with us willingly, or unconscious. The choice is yours."

As he says that, he pulls a gun from his pocket. "The pellets in this gun contain an anaesthetic. The effects of it are instantaneous when they hit your bloodstream. I would prefer not to have to use it, but …"

The expression on his face becomes even more irritating. Spike and I get up as one, and move towards them. The gun is raised, aiming at me. I stop. Without my Slayer strength I don't know what I can do.

It happens so fast, it's a blur. Suddenly Spike's no longer beside me, he's launched himself at Aaron, knocking the gun out of his hand. It goes skittering across the room, and one of the others - I think it's Benedict - moves to intercept it, but Spike's too quick, he kicks out and Benedict goes sprawling in the opposite direction. While this is going on, I try to get involved, but I'm grabbed from behind, and someone has his arm around my neck, and then I feel a gun at my arm. I try to struggle anyway, but I can't make any impression on the grip. These Carnolans might look human, but I'd estimate almost vamp strength.

Spike's managed to knock Benedict out, and Aaron's on the floor with Spike on top of him, hitting him repeatedly. And then he sees me, struggling against Cornelius who speaks. 

"Mr. Ashcroft. You are a surprise. Now, I'd suggest you stop that, and let my brother up. If you don't, I may break a bone or two in this young lady before I put her to sleep. Nothing fatal, of course, but I can make it extremely painful."

Spike does as he's told, moving away slowly. Aaron retrieves his weapon, and points it at Spike.

Looking at Spike's expression, he hasn't realised the significance of what he did. Those 'men' are strong. They're all taller and bulkier than Spike, and he shouldn't have been able to make any impression on one of them, let alone two. 

"So, what do you think?" Aaron is asking the others. "Should we take our surprise along with us? Or is he more trouble than he's worth?" 

"I think," Cornelius answers, "that he may be part of what we don't understand. I say we take him. It won't be difficult to keep him under control, and it may make the Slayer more amenable to us."

"I think you may be right," Aaron agrees. "Ok, let's do this."

I hear the shot and see Spike crumple. Aaron goes to him, putting a hand to his forehead. "Good, just as I expected," he says. "Your turn now."

Cornelius nods, and I see his finger start to depress the trigger, and then, nothing.


	22. Chapter 22 A Conversation Over Coffee

**Chapter 22 - A Conversation Over Coffee**

In the space between sleeping and waking I hear him, moving around, sounding agitated. I know it's Spike without opening my eyes. As I move slowly upwards towards full consciousness, I remember what happened, and Spike's agitation is explained. Despite that, it still takes me longer than I'd expect to surface completely, and as the details become clearer, my own agitation grows.

At last, I manage to open my eyes, but my first attempt to sit up is a total failure. Alerted, I assume, by my abortive attempts to move, Spike seems to materialise beside me. I'm lying on a bed. Not the bed from the hotel, just a basic double sized bed. The room is a surprise too. It looks like a normal domestic bedroom. Well, fairly normal, in that the only windows are high in the sloped ceiling. There's a chair below one of the windows, positioned to reach them, and I assume Spike's been busy.

"How're you doing?" he asks.

"Groggy? You're doing better by the looks of it."

"Came round maybe half an hour ago. Tried the door, but I couldn't budge it. Same with the window. Looks like we're stuck here for now."

"Spike," I say, as the last memories of recent events click into place. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Well, yeah. Got taken by the brothers Grimm, didn't we?"

"Yes, but you nearly got us out of it."

"Well, I tried, but without my vamp strength …"

"That's just it, Spike. I had a go at them, and they weren't human-strong. Even without my extra abilities, I can tell the difference between normal- and demon-strength, and believe me, they were demon-strong - pretty close to vamp-strong, I'd guess."

"Can't be. The door, and the windows, they're reinforced, but it's not like they're solid steel or anything. If I was vamp-strong, I could've …"

I grab his hand, and turn his arm so I can see it more clearly. It's exactly where I expected to find it, a small, red dot of encrusted blood.

"Looks like you've had a dose of muscle relaxant too," I inform him.

He cranes his head to look, and I can almost see his chest puffing up with pride.

"So, I'm still a match for you then?"

"Spike, you were always a match for me. Strength had nothing to do with it. But now it looks like I've found an ideal sparring partner. You may be human, but there's nothing average about you."

"Well, I never claimed to be average," he says, a smirk starting on his face. "But this puts a whole new complexion on things."

"Still, it doesn't get us out of here," I remind him.

He sobers immediately and gets up to resume his pacing. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and approach the door. It a little more substantial than a standard domestic door, and, normally, I'd be able to get through it with one kick. I turn away from the door, and consider trying the window too when I hear a key turning in the lock behind me. I swing around, ready to attack, but I'm completely thrown by what I see.

She's tall, well, tall by my standards, maybe 5 foot 7, slim, with long strawberry blonde hair which is pulled into a flattering knot on the top of her head. She's full-figured, but perfectly in proportion, and I'd estimate her age as, well, fortyish. She comes in and calmly locks the door behind her. While her back is turned, I launch an attack anyway, but she bats me away without appearing to expend any effort. I land on the floor a few feet away, and when I look up, she's hovering over me, and offering me a hand to get up.

"I'm sorry about that. Even now, it takes a bit of getting used to, being strong like that. Now, please don't try anything else, because I honestly don't want to hurt you, and as you just saw, my control's not good enough when I'm excited about something."

I ignore her proffered hand, and instead take the one offered by Spike to get up. 

"I'm sorry about all this, you know. It's just, I need to talk to you, and I didn't think you'd listen voluntarily, so we had to take measures."

She pulls the chair that was under the window to face the bed, and gestures for us to sit opposite her. On the grounds that we don't seem to have much choice, I sit as directed, and Spike sits beside me. She regards us in silence for a while, and I do some thinking. There's something wrong with this, quite apart from the whole kidnapping thing. I just can't put my finger on it.

"As I said," she begins, "I am extremely sorry for the methods we have used to get to this point. I hope that you will find it in yourselves to forgive us all in time."

"If you want forgiveness, this'd better be some story," Spike mutters under his breath.

I can't help but agree, but I don't say anything.

"You were brought here so that I can explain something of the way we live."

"If you eat human flesh, then I'm not sure I want to know any more," I reply, wondering where this is leading.

"I personally, never have, and never will, eat human flesh. That particular requirement is very specific, and, if you allow me to explain some things, I will eventually get to that."

As she says this, it dawns on me what was wrong. Nothing. That's what my Slayer sense has been giving me. Absolutely nothing. She's either human, or she's a type of demon that flies under the Slayer radar.

"Are you human?" I ask.

She smiles. "You noticed. I'm as human as you are."

"But the strength?"

"Comes from the same source as your own."

Ok, so now I'm confused. She's a Slayer?

"Go on," I encourage.

"I'd like to start by telling you about some of the specifics of the Carnolan way of life."

"But you're human," I interject.

"Yes, but, by choice, I live among the Carnolan. They are my friends, my family. You've already met my boys."

"You mean the goons that brought us here?" Spike interrupts.

"You were brought here by my sons, yes," she replies in a tone which implies that she doesn't think a lot of Spike's use of the word 'goons'. She takes a deep breath then continues. "Let me explain. Carnolan never have female offspring. Despite this, their reproductive requirements are very similar."

"Then how?" Spike asks.

"They use human women."

"What, they take humans to use as brood mares?"

"No, no, nothing so crude. They do not take women against their will. All of us are here willingly."

"But why?" I demand.

"Simple. We fall in love."

Ok, maybe that's true, but then again, maybe she's been brainwashed.

"We choose to live away from humans for the most part. In fact, that wish for seclusion is so deep seated, that we guard information on our existence from everyone. Or at least, we try to. The Senior Partners at Wolfram and Hart have always been aware of us. Until recently, we haven't interfered with their plans at all, and so we've been ignored. Over the past few years, we've become much more active outside our own communities, and that has been in preparation for your coming."

"Ok, I get that you've been waiting for a Slayer, but I'm not the only one any more."

"True, but you were identified by a number of specifics. I'm sure you're aware that, in Slayer terms, you are unique."

I think about that for a moment. So far, it makes sense, in a Hellmouthy sort of way. Except we're not on the Hellmouth any more.

"So, what do you expect me to do?"

"That's simple. We expect, or more exactly, we believe you are our best hope of dealing a major blow to the power of the Senior Partners."

"Not that I'm not in agreement with doing something about the Senior partners," Spike says. "But there's this adage, you know the one, 'better the devil you know'. Can't help but think it applies here. They told us the Carnolan are human-eating demons, and that they're planning on taking power. Can't see the advantage for us in helping you, and I know of at least one disadvantage."

"Well, as to your adage, the best way around that is to get to know us. This house is within an area protected by ancient magic. Anyone on the outside will simply go around it, and not even realise they've been deflected. Only those of Carnolan blood can breach it for themselves. You can't leave the area, although you are welcome to leave the house if you wish."

"If we were free to go," Spike asks, "why the needles and the locked doors?"

"Simple, really. This," she gestures around her, "is my home. I didn't want it wrecked by you trying to escape. Keeping you both in this room until I had a chance to talk to you was all we wanted. The door won't be locked from now on, unless you lock it from the inside."

She looks at us, gauging our reaction. For now, I'm calm, and I'm not getting anything different from Spike.

"Ok, what do you say we take this discussion downstairs and continue it over some coffee? And I baked some biscuits this morning. Or scones," she says, looking at Spike, "if you're English."

She gets up then, opens the door, and we follow her out of the room and onto a narrow staircase. We go down, reaching a landing with several doors, and then continue our descent on what, I assume, was the original staircase. When we reach the bottom, she turns left, and takes us into a large, cozy, kitchen.

"Where are your sons?" I ask. I'm not sure what to make of their mom, but I definitely don't trust them.

"Oh, the boys had to go back to Vegas. Running that hotel takes all their time. Bringing you here was just a favour to me."

She sets coffee brewing, then opens a cupboard and pulls out a tray of biscuits, leaving it on the large wooden table that is the centrepiece of the room. Spike and I each pull up a chair, and soon we both have a large mug of coffee in our hands. Our hostess sits opposite us, and it occurs to me that I don't know her name.

"Who are you?" I ask.

She looks puzzled at the question, then speaks. "Apart from being the mother of three Carnolan demons, you mean?"

"Well, yes."

"My name is Lucy Wells. I was born in California, forty-something years ago. I was a potential Slayer. I had a Watcher and everything - apparently they had me marked as a likely candidate, so I merited my own watcher. Of course, the fact that I didn't have much in the way of parents might have had something to do with it too."

She takes a sip of her coffee, and motions us towards the biscuits, so I take one, spreading it with the offered butter.

"His name was Farthington. John Farthington. He was a good man, still is, as far as I'm aware. He started my training, explaining all about vampires and how to kill them. I enjoyed it, really. It gave me something to do, made me feel important. There wasn't a lot in my life otherwise. He started when I was fifteen, but when I turned eighteen, and still hadn't been called, the Council insisted he go back to London. He had no choice, really. When he tried to tell them that he wanted to stay here, they made it clear that they would have him deported if need be. And, I had a boyfriend, so I wasn't about to travel to England, even for someone I cared about as much as I did for John. I never knew my own father."

"So," I interrupt. "If you were a potential, then that's why you …"

"Got with the serious strength? Yes. When you dissipated the Slayer power to all potentials, I got my share. A bit late in life to be very useful, but I got it just the same. Probably just as well, because if I hadn't, there's no way my boys would have left me alone to talk to you. And they don't see things quite the way you and I do. Much as I love them, Carnolans can be a little single-minded about things they feel are important."

"You keep calling them Carnolans, but surely your sons aren't pure bred? They've got a human mother, after all."

"All Carnolans have a human mother."

"I've heard rumours about some demons like that," Spike says. "It's supposed to be where the tales about the Faerie creatures stealing girls come from, taking them against their will."

"Except the Carnolan take no one against their will."

"You mean you chose this? Being away from your own kind? Being isolated? Why would you do that?"

She turns to me, smiling softly as she speaks. "You, of all people, shouldn't have to ask that. I did it for love. That boyfriend I mentioned? He's now my, well, the human term is husband. I fell in love. Of course, when I first met him, I didn't know he wasn't human. I wasn't a Slayer then, so I didn't get the 'tingle'. But I did know before I decided to be with him. It was quite a shock, finding out that the man you love isn't human, but my background as a potential Slayer helped a bit."

"How do we know you really came voluntarily, and weren't brainwashed?" Spike demands.

"Well, you can only take my word for it, I suppose."

"So, how does it work, I mean, Carnolan man, human woman? You said there aren't any Carnolan women."

"That's right. Carnolan men essentially reproduce themselves. My sons have no biological relationship to me. My body just nurtured them until they were ready to emerge into the world. As for how, well, the mechanics are pretty much like the human version."

"Ok, but there's still the whole eating human flesh thing. I mean, that's got to be wrong."

"What if it's done willingly?"

"You're not going to tell me a human is going to willingly agree to be eaten alive?" Spike's voice is almost a growl.

"There are some rather special circumstances."

"What?" I ask. "You mean, they're suicides or something, just getting a helping hand?"

"No, not like that at all. The only humans whose flesh is eaten are those who have chosen to live among the Carnolan. It's a peculiarity of their, well, biology, but my sons will never be able to reproduce, have children of their own, unless they eat my flesh."

"That's …"

"Disgusting?" She shrugs. "It's a gift, given willingly, or not at all. It's my choice, and when the time comes, I will do it."

"When the time comes?"

"When I am close to death. My sons will know that. There is a ceremony, and these days, there's even anaesthetic. It's the order of things in this society. From death, comes life."

There's a matter-of-factness about the way she says it that screams 'truth' at me louder than any protestations she could make. There's even a weird sort of logic about it too.

Spike drains the last of his coffee.

"So, tell me what you have in mind for the Senior Partners" Spike seems intent on changing the subject.

"Oh, that? Well, we aren't actually that strong, not in the way they're strong. But we have one advantage. We know the source of their power."


	23. Chapter 23 – Jealousy

Chapter 23 – Jealousy

She wouldn't tell us any more about Wolfram and Hart. She said that was for later, when we had begun to understand the Carnolan way of life. 

When we finish our coffee, she suggests we might like to shower and change. I take a look at my attire, and realise I'm still in my pyjamas. And I'm just grateful that I chose something to sleep in that's more or less decent. I take the shower first, dressing before I leave the bathroom, and Spike follows while I do something with my hair. No hairdryer because I didn't pack one, but at least I find my brush, so I get to detangle it. I'm just finishing the make up when Spike returns, still towelling his hair. 

"Where to?" he asks.

"She said we could go outside," I say, "so let's do that."

We don't see Lucy when we go downstairs, and we go straight to the front door. We stand on the doorstep and look around. I don't know what I expected, a single house, or a small group of homes, but it's bigger than that. Lucy's house has another on either side, and there are another three visible on the other side of the road. I step out a little further, and see no end to the buildings.

Lucy comes up behind me, and I decide to ask her about it.

"How big is this?"

"The enclave? I'm not sure about the actual area, if that's what you want to know. There are a couple of hundred of us living here just now, and a fair number of the houses are empty because of business outside."

"It's like a town," I comment.

"It is a town," she corrects me, smiling. "Would you like to have a look around?"

"Might as well," mutters Spike. 

I take his arm, and he doesn't pull away. We walk along the sidewalk coming to an intersection and turn left. There's a small store, the sort that seems to sell everything, and opposite, what looks like a school.

We see a number of people as we walk, and their reaction is interesting. Lucy obviously commands respect, and we are objects of curiosity. Apart from Lucy, we see only another two women, one obviously pregnant, and the other with two small boys. The really spooky thing, though, is the way all the men look so similar. I assume it's just the way they are. Having said that, it's also obvious that they take care to make slight changes to hairstyle or facial hair to give themselves some individuality.

In the distance I spot what seems to be a parking lot. Since I haven't spotted any cars anywhere else, I ask about it.

"Cars aren't much use within the enclave," she answers. "Everything's pretty close, really. The cars are used when we leave. We're too small a community to be truly self-sufficient, and there are a lot of things we need from outside. And we've always had people working in the human world, passing as human, although recently, that's become much more intensive."

Well, logically, if that's where the cars are, that's where I'd expect to find the edge of the enclave, so I start to walk in that direction. Lucy doesn't comment at all, but I get the distinct impression that Spike understands my motive.

The sun is bright overhead, and it's pleasantly warm.

"Where are we?" Spike asks.

"Where is the enclave, you mean?" Lucy asks.

"That's what I said."

Spike is obviously still a little put out, and I can see that he's struggling to put all the new information together in his head.

"The enclave is in the middle of the desert. If you could find a way to leave, you'd find no roads for several miles in every direction."

"Not exactly desert weather, though," he comments. And he's right. It's very pleasant, but not the hot, dry heat you'd expect if we really were in the desert.

"The spell is designed to keep the enclave at a more comfortable temperature. Remember that our enclaves around the world are normally in areas where there are few people. The climate in those places is often hostile."

I glance at the vehicles, and realise that, yes, they seem to work with that story. They're all utility type vehicles, the sort of thing that could make good time where there aren't any roads. I drop Spike's hand, and continue to approach the furthest of the vehicles. As I get closer, I realise that the parking lot isn't as big as it seems. What I thought were continuing rows of cars is actually a mirror, and I keep walking towards it. There's something odd. I feel … something, and close my eyes to shake off the sensation. When I open my eyes, I can't see anything wrong, so I continue to walk. To my surprise, I walk into something hard. 

It's the green Range Rover I just passed, and now it's in front of me. I scan behind me to find Spike, but there's no sign of him. Concerned, I look all around, and I spot him in front of me which doesn't make any sense at all. I turn around, and I can see the reflection of the Range Rover, so I move towards it, this time also taking note of my own reflection. Again, there's that feeling, something faint and odd, and my reflection's gone. Again, the car in front of me is real.

I walk back to Spike, interested to hear his reaction.

"What did you see?" I ask.

"I saw you walking one way, and the next second, you'd turned right around."

"Yeah," I reply. "That's what I thought."

"I said you'd be deflected by the end of the enclave," Lucy reminds us.

"But," Spike says, his eyes narrow slits, "If that's what happens out there, then people are going to think they're travelling north, and they're actually going south. Must cause a lot of confusion."

"Well, the effect is a bit different on the outside. It has something to do with the angles involved, I think, but on the outside, the effect is more subtle. People are just 'encouraged' to walk around the enclave. So, they might end up a few hundred yards away from where they think they are, but their ultimate direction of travel will remain unchanged."

"Clever," he murmurs, and I'm really not sure whether or not he's being sarcastic.

We return to Lucy's home after that, and when we go inside, Lucy excuses herself, saying that she needs to see to some business.

"Just one thing," Spike says, as she turns to go. "Your boys said they were representatives of the Carnolan Government. When do we get to meet someone from your government?"

Lucy smiled at that. "Oh! Well, you already have. You see, I'm the current First Minister of the International Government."

"You mean," I interrupt, "they let non-Carnolans into their government?"

"More than that, actually. The most basic stipulation for membership is that members should have borne a Carnolan son. So, all members of the Government are actually human women."

She goes into a room which turns out to be a comfortable living room, and through that to what looks like some sort of office. She opens a drawer, and selects a document from the pile there.

"Here, this might help a bit. Our government's pretty low-key compared to human governments. That gives a few details of how things work. I'll answer more questions when I get back, if you like."

She ushers us out of the office and closes the door. 

"I'm not going to lock that," she says, "but I'd appreciate it if you didn't go in without me. There's nothing there that could really harm anyone, but there are private records of some individuals, and those people wouldn't be happy to know that their personal details were treated carelessly. Within the limits of personal privacy, I will supply you with whatever information you need."

She beckons us to follow her, and we go into the kitchen. She opens the fridge and points out the range of food there, telling us to help ourselves. I hadn't realised it before, but I'm hungry, something my stomach decides to make known by growling.

As soon as she's gone, I open the fridge again, looking through it for something tasty. Spike reaches over me, and pulls out a tray of eggs. He leaves them by the cooktop, then reaches into one of the adjacent cupboards to pull out a pan. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought he actually knew where things were kept.

"Omelette?" he asks.

"Yeah," I answer.

"See what we could add to liven it up a bit then," he requests, finding a bowl and starting to break eggs into it.

I do as he asks, finding some mushrooms and a red pepper. On another shelf are some green onions, so I help myself to a couple. I take them to Spike who finds a chopping board and a knife, gesturing to me to get chopping.

"Spike, how do you know where things are kept?"

"Don't know, not as such. Just, there's not that many possibilities if the kitchen's well thought out. And this one is. Obviously, you're going to keep pans close to where they're used, and there're only so many drawers to keep the knives in."

"Oh."

A few moments later, we're sitting down to omelette with bread and salad and I've even found a diet Coke to go with it. We both eat quickly, and when we've finished, I sit enjoying the feeling of hunger satisfied.

"So, Pet," Spike says as he pushes his plate away from him. "What's the next step?"

"I don't know," I admit. "Let me see. They brought our bags from the hotel. I wonder if my cell phone's still in my purse. Wes must be worried if he hasn't been able to get through to us. I thought we'd try to call him."

"Seems like a plan," he admits, and he leads the way upstairs.

My phone's where I left it, and I take it out, only to find that there's no signal. I show Spike, and he shrugs. 

"Could just be too far out in the desert," he offers. "Or it could be the magic. No way of knowing for now."

"So, we're on our own," I say, my mind going through the possibilities. "Seems we don't have any choice other than finding out what we can. We just need to widen our research to find a way out of here."

"So, fancy a walk?" he asks. "Not going to find out a lot in here. Natives seem friendly enough. Maybe we should see what we can find out without a chaperone. This," he waves the paper Lucy gave us, "seems to be a bit on the dry side. Maybe try it for bed time reading. Should send us to sleep right quick."

"The thing is, what are we trying to find out? Are we looking to find that the Carnolan are actually a species that deserves to continue, or looking for a way to destroy them?"

"I don't know, Pet. Seems, with the bargain you made with Lilah, maybe you don't actually have a choice."

"And there's Lilah's hold over you."

"Yes, well, that's as may be. But you've always got an option on that."

"What?"

"Simple. Kill me. Asked the Watcher to do it if things went that way, but if he's not around, it'll be up to you."

"Not going to happen. I've been there, done that, killed someone I cared about, sent him to Hell. Not going there again. We'll find another way, even if I have to chain you up somewhere."

The look of pain on his face is unmistakeable at the reference to Angel.

"I was a different person then," I remind him. "Just a child, really. And I mean it. I'll chain you up if that's what it takes."

"Not that that's not an inviting possibility, but you don't want to be saddled with me if I'm a liability. If that happens, maybe I'll find a way to do for myself."

I don't answer that. I can't. I'm still holding out the hope that Willow can do something about it. 

"I wonder if there's a landline?" I ask, forcing my mind back to the present. I head back out of the bedroom, and down to the kitchen, then check the living room, and even open the office door. No phone in sight. I check the kitchen, and it's the same story. Whatever else we're going to do, it looks like we're going to have to do without checking in with Wes, at least for now.

"We'll have to let Lucy know that we need to contact him, or he's likely to come looking for us."

"You think he will?" Spike asks.

"Yeah, I do. Either that, or he'll go and stir something up with Lilah, and that could be even worse."

"So, you up for this walk then?" he asks me, and I nod. 

This time, we walk in the opposite direction. Again, we see some Carnolans, apparently going about their business. It's different, though. Before, when we were with Lucy, people looked at us, but there wasn't really anything in it, and I can only assume that was due to Lucy's influence. Now, it's noticeably different. The men are watching me carefully. I can feel their eyes on me, and it's not a comfortable feeling. I glance at Spike, and I guess he noticed too. He's glaring at the man ahead who's looking at me particularly carefully. He's right in our path, and he seems to be waiting for us to get there.

"Miss Summers," he says when we get close enough. 

"Hello," I answer. "This is Spike."

He ignores that, not taking his eyes off me. "My name is Winston. I'd really like to get to know you. Can I offer my services as a guide to our town?"

"Thanks, Winston," I answer. "But Spike and I'd like to have a look around on our own for now. Maybe later."

He glances towards Spike, before returning his attention to me. "The invitation is open whenever you care to take it up. Of course, it would be much more interesting if you dropped the human man. I'm sure you'd find that I would more than make up for any loss."

"Well, Spike and I sort of go together. So, if he's not welcome on this tour you're offering, I guess I'm not either."

I take a tighter hold of Spike's arm before walking off. It's only then that I feel just how tense he is. I glance at his face, and his lips are pursed and his brows wrinkled.

"Jealous?" I ask.

"I am not jealous." His voice is indignant.

"Looks like it," I offer.

"Why don't you go and make eyes at Mr. Dark and Smarmy over there. He's guaranteeing you won't miss me."

I stop walking, and pull him to face me. "Spike, I'm not looking for anyone else. I've spent years since Sunnydale, trying to find someone to take your place. And, you know what that taught me? There isn't anyone who could take your place. No one. Spike-replacement doesn't exist. And, now I've got the real thing, why would I even want to look?"

His body relaxes a bit at that, and then there's that new expression. The one that says he's not sure about himself any more. 

"You sure about that, Pet? You sure you've got Spike back?"

"I'm sure," I answer. And to prove it, I stand on my toes, put my hands on his shoulders and kiss him. I'm not sure what I intend, not even sure I gave it any thought. I just do what seems natural, and once my lips are on his, the rest just follows like it hasn't been years since all those times after I came back from the dead. His response is exactly what it should be too, and in no time, lack of oxygen is becoming an issue.

We pause, forehead to forehead, panting for air. Spike gestures over his shoulder towards where Winston is still standing. "You've made your point, Love. Now, is this all for his benefit or should we take it somewhere more private?"

I look at him for an instant, wondering if he really thinks I'd do that just to make a point. Then he grins, and I know he's teasing me. 

"Somewhere more private, I think," I answer, gently punching him in the ribs as I do so.

"Oh, in for some pain, am I?" he asks, his eyes glinting at me.

"Quite probably," I answer, spinning us both round to go back the way we came.


	24. Chapter 24 Nothing on the Telly

Chapter 24 - Nothing On the Telly

You hear about something feeling like you're coming home. Well, it wasn't like that. It wasn't like anything. Because I'd never really been home before. 

You know how memories are often things you see complete with rose-coloured hue? If you believe them, then the past was always brighter, happier, more special than the present could possibly be. My memories of Spike were mixed at best. Towards the end, they were pretty positive, but, other than sleeping fully-clothed in his arms, they were just about friendship, companionship, even love, but in a platonic sense. The earlier memories, the sex, they were all about explosions and fireworks and the most amazing physical sensations. But all of that was tempered by the guilt and the need I felt to hide our relationship. And that's ignoring the way I treated him then.

Being with him again is coming home - all the physical sensation with none of the guilt. There's this absolute knowledge that I belong with this man, and that my life is empty without him. I knew it before, but now I've got the proof. Even Spike was more like I remembered. Less of the thinking things through, more of the just doing. It's as if, once the fuse was lit, there was nothing either of us could have done. Not that I even considered changing anything. Lying in a contented heap afterwards, I know that I'll do anything to keep what I've got.

"You ok, Pet?" he asks, gently stroking my face with a finger. We didn't need words before, both of us knowing exactly what was needed.

"Ok doesn't seem adequate, but yeah, I'm good."

"No regrets?"

Oh, here it comes.

"No. None. You?"

"Not regrets as such. More like I feel I've jumped off a cliff and I'm still waiting to hit the ground."

I can see the remnant of fear on his face, and I want to wipe it away. It still hurts that he could feel so afraid that I would hurt him, but I understand why he feels that way.

"I'm not going to let you down this time, Spike. You believe me, don't you? I love you, and I'll tell anyone who's interested, and probably bore people who're not."

He burrows his head into my neck then, and I feel his breathing hitch. He looks up again a few seconds later.

"And if it doesn't work out, what then?"

"Then we'll deal with it. But I love you, and I think you love me, and …"

"You know I do, Pet. I said it once, everything's still all about you. Hasn't changed."

"Ok, I love you, you love me. We've got as good a chance as anyone of making this work. The rest is up to us."

He nods then, but I can feel his heart beating in his chest, and I know he's more scared of this than he is of almost anything. Probably as scared as I am.

We doze them, and the next thing I'm aware of is that I can hear footsteps outside our room. I remember with relief that I locked it when we came in. Funny that, we went from being locked in here to locking the door for ourselves in just a few hours.

My movement seems to have wakened Spike, or maybe he was already awake, because he's stirring too.

"Time to make a move?" he asks.

"I suppose," I answer, stretching and enjoying the feel of slightly achy muscles. "We've got work to do."

We dress quickly, then go downstairs. Lucy is back again, and busy in the kitchen. I've got to say that I never imagined the head of a government rattling her own pots and pans.

"Oh, there you are," she greets us as we go in. And, you know, it feels kind of like being caught by my mom. It's as if she knows exactly what we've been doing. "Dinner'll be in about half an hour. I'm free after that, if you want some more answers."

"Thanks," I answer. "We do still have questions."

"Fine. Why don't you go and sit down in the living room. There's a TV there. No live broadcast, it can't get through to the enclave, but there're recordings which are pretty up to date, and some films too."

"Is that why my cell phone hasn't got a signal?"

"Yes. The signal just bounces off the enclave."

Spike grunts and leaves the room.

"Not being able to use my cell could be a problem. If we're out of touch for a while, our friends might try looking for us."

"They won't find you."

"They know where we were headed," I remind her.

"There were no records of your being there."

"I can't see Wes just accepting that."

"My boys run that hotel, which is part of a much larger organisation. They're used to dealing with the most powerful demons and humans alike. I'm sure they can handle your friend."

"If he can't get an answer any other way, he'll go to the Senior Partners."

That gives her something to think about. 

"I'll see what I can do to let you get a message to him."

I get the impression that's the best I'm going to get, at least for now, so I leave it. I wander off in search of Spike, and find him in front of the TV, remote in hand. He's not looking too impressed.

"Nothing worth watching," he complains.

"Let me see," I suggest, running my eye over the tapes in front of him .

It's all been recorded in the past week or so, but there's certainly nothing that would appeal to Spike.

"What about movies?" I ask.

"Well, if cheesy romances are your thing, then you'll be spoilt for choice. Not a single car chase or a decent explosion among them."

"Well then, maybe we could just sit and snuggle."

He grins at that, and I make myself comfortable in his arms. Even though I know we're in trouble here, that I have no idea how we're going to make things right, I feel a wave of absolute contentment wash over me.

"So, what else do we need to ask?" he says.

I think about it. "Well, I'd like to talk to some other women. You know, get a feeling of how they live. I'd like to know what the overall aims of the Carnolan are. So far, we've got no information at all on that."

"Yeah, I've got some specific questions too. Like, how they've got electricity and gas but no telephone."

"Generator?" I suggest. "I mean, if they want this place to be a secret, they could hardly be connected to the grid."

"Maybe," he agrees. "But, if this place is impervious to cell phone and TV signals, where does the sunlight come from?"

"Not sure I see the link," I admit.

"Well, Pet, light that you see, cell phone and TV signals are all the same really. They're all forms of light, just you can't see most of it."

"Oh," I answer. Somewhere, in the back of my mind I remember learning something like that back in high school.

"And then there's the weather. I'm sure I felt a bit of a breeze out there."

"Do you trust her?" I ask.

"Lucy? I more trust her than not, but I wouldn't like to rely on her if I could help it. I think she's been truthful as far as it goes, but her aims are so far from ours that her priorities would be completely different. You?"

"Yeah, that about sums it up. What do you think about telling her about our problems? I mean, the contract, and Lilah's control of you. Wait, I wonder if Lilah's control will even work here."

He tenses at the reminder of Lilah's power over him. "Might be a good idea to ask her that one. If I go off on a killing spree while I'm here, it might not do much for inter-species relations."

"True," I agree, "but then, if these Carnolans are all strong, then maybe you can do less damage here."

"What about the women? Or the little ones? I can't help but think that if I hurt one of those then I'll lose us any choice to decide which way to go. It'll either be destroy the Carnolan or be destroyed. From that perspective, it'd be a right smart move for Lilah to have me do something nasty."

"Would it?" I ask. "I mean, even if we were able to destroy this enclave, it sounds like there are other enclaves around the world. Destroying the whole species must need something pretty spectacular."

"No, Pet, it wouldn't. Think about it. They need human women to reproduce. Cut off the supply, and you've destroyed the species. It might take a while, but it'd work. Just making known what we know now, that they need human women as mates, and that they eat human flesh would probably do more harm than good."

"Doesn't sound like my style, though. I mean, killing something dead. I get that. You know, stake through the heart, vampire turns to dust. Long term plans? So not really my thing."

He shrugs. "Don't know that's the way to do it either, but it's worth keeping it in mind."

Dinner is delicious, and I'm amazed at how hungry I am once again. Of course, when I comment to Lucy that I don't know where my appetite came from, Spike gives me that smirk which at once reminds me of how much it used to irritate me, and at the same time makes the events of earlier flash into my mind. I know my face takes on a pinkish tone as a result, and I make up my mind to try to get my own back later.

Lucy specifically asked that we didn't talk about business over dinner, so we keep things to inconsequential nonsenses, although the quality of the food renders conversation less important.

Later, we're seated in the living room, cups of coffee in our hands. Spike and I are together, sitting close but not actually touching. Lucy is sitting opposite us, and her hands are folded in her lap.

"I believe you have some questions," she begins.

"Yeah," I reply. "Er, before we start, though, did you think about letting us contact our friends?"

"I did. The best I can offer at the moment is for you to compose a text message on your phone. Make sure that it contains enough information that your friend knows it's genuine, and I'll get someone to transmit it from the outside."

"If you don't have any way to communicate with the outside, how do you function as a community?" I ask. I imagine living without phones, and I find I can't quite do it.

"There are ways," she says, without further information.

I'm about to ask for something else, when she smiles.

"I hear you met Winston," she says.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I think perhaps I'd better explain something to you. Winston is 16. He looks older, by human standards anyway, but that's a peculiarity of Carnolan physiology. Children grow at similar rates to humans, but there are few of the changes you associate with ageing. Most 16 year-olds will be indistinguishable from much older people. Even very old Carnolans, well into their second century, look little different from in their teens."

"That explains …"

"His attitude? Well, at sixteen he's not yet allowed to go out into the human world without his parents. Imagine a sixteen-year-old boy who's never had the chance to talk to girls other than his mother and other married women. He's got the same urges that any sixteen-year-old would have. You're the first apparently unattached woman he's ever had the chance to chat to."

"But I was with Spike. Why would he assume I was unattached?"

"Well, that's one of the arrogances shared by all Carnolans. They have certain … advantages. Our society treats women better than human society. Carnolans know that they need us, that their society is dependent on human women. It's a lifestyle which can be extremely comfortable. And, well, imagine the advantages of a husband who will forever have the strength and vigour of his teens."

"So he thought that because Spike was human I'd just drop him?"

"Pretty much. He's still some time away from being allowed into the human world unchaperoned. In Carnolan terms, Winston is actually rather immature for his age. I believe he's just been told that his formal training in the ways of humans has been postponed for another couple of years, and I would imagine he's extremely unhappy about that. This incident has simply reinforced my belief that it was the correct decision to make, both for his own safety, and the safety of the enclave."

The imagined compliment that Winston's clumsy chat up implied somehow loses its value when it's obvious that it's come from a hormone riddled teenager. Still, I've got exactly what I want, so I can live with that.

I'm still musing about this, when Spike asks about the gas and electricity.

"We use bottled gas and have our own generator," she answers. "The generator's at the other side of the enclave from where we were earlier. And our need for fuel is limited to cooking and light at night. The enclave itself looks after our other needs."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. But how does light get in when TV signals can't?" Spike asks.

Lucy looks perturbed by the question. "I'm not actually certain," she admits. "There's obviously a difference, but I'm not an expert in either the magic or the physics."

Spike seems to accept this, but I can't help but wonder if he's got an idea.

I tell Lucy that I'd like to meet some other women.

"I can arrange that, of course. Naturally, I can't require them to answer your questions, but I can arrange a meeting. There are only another four women in the enclave at the moment, however."

"Why so few?"

"Well, firstly, some left when they knew you were coming. Remember, you were asked to destroy us. Then too, it's just the nature of things. Carnolans live much longer than humans. Yet, once they've chosen a mate, that's it, for life. When their mate dies, as is the normal progression of things, that's the end of that part of their lives. Remember too, that the requirement of eating the flesh of their mothers means that Carnolans don't actually become capable of reproduction until much later in their lives than humans. My own sons might not expect that to happen for another forty or fifty years, by which time they will be in their sixties or seventies. My own husband was ninety-four when we married. It's also true that many Carnolans never learn the rules of human society well enough to actually persuade a woman to come and live among us. They're seen as odd in many respects, and often have huge problems fitting in socially."

"So, what you're saying is that only a small number of Carnolans will actually have a wife at any given time?" I ask.

"Exactly. Women are always in the minority."

"Yet they let you run the government?"

"They insist on it. You see, one of the disadvantages of Carnolan reproduction is that there is very little change from generation to generation. It's not exactly like cloning, since there seem to be minor random changes in genes which occur naturally, but the resulting variation in personality is much less than among humans. When they used to run their own affairs, nothing changed. They lived apart from humans except when they needed to find a mate, but otherwise the society stagnated."

"So, why does the woman who's in charge of the government have time to cook her own food?" I ask.

"My role is primarily a planning one. There's actually very little to be done otherwise. Those parts of the society which work well continue to do so without interference. The Carnolan race is actually very peaceful. There are few things which will cause a violent outburst, and all of those are related to a perceived threat. As a result of their longevity, Carnolans long ago learned how to make money and keep it. Most of the things which humans become addicted to don't work with them anyway. Alcohol and drugs have no effect. The only addiction I'm aware of is the need to make money, but that's only ever done within human laws because of the absolute fear of involving human men in their affairs."

"You've mentioned your husband a few times. Is he with your sons?" I ask.

"My husband is dead. He strayed too near Sunnydale some years ago, when my sons were still young. He was killed."

"I didn't, … did I?"

"Oh, no. Not you. He was given the job of finding out about a Government installation there. I believe they were called the Initiative. He was killed trying to infiltrate their headquarters."

"So the Initiative knew about the Carnolans?" I ask.

"It's likely they thought him human. Carnolans can certainly pass as such for any tests short of a post mortem examination. We managed to retrieve his body - another of the ancient magics at our disposal, so they never got the evidence."

"I'm sorry," I say, knowing it's inadequate from the look of pain on her face as she spoke about him.

"Not as sorry as I am," she answers.

I'm loath to interrupt her thoughts again, but Spike seems to have no qualms about that, although he does leave it for a short while.

"So, you want us to destroy the Senior Partners?"

Lucy seems to have to come back from a long way away, but she answers, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Well, they're not exactly a force for good, are they?"

"No, but it's never as simple as that, is it? We get rid of the Senior Partners, and the power vacuum will be filled by something else. You planning on taking that role?"

"No, we're not. But the fact remains that the Senior Partners have decided to destroy us. We're left the choice of destroying them or being destroyed."

"So," I ask, "what have you done to upset them?"

"Apart from having a prophecy that says we may one day destroy them?"

"Yes, apart from that. I assume that prophecy's been around for a long time."

"It has. But we've made it our habit to keep out of the way, to seem as unthreatening as possible. It was actually you who changed things." She turns to me as she says that. "You're the Slayer who was foretold as being our instrument."

"But if the prophecy says that I could be the one to destroy them, why would they send me to you?"

"I think it's an attempt to circumvent the prophecy. If you're going to meet us, then it'll happen. By giving you the information they did, they obviously hoped to get you to act before you found out the truth."

"I can see why they might think that," I admit.

"And I've got no doubt that they have some sort of hold on you."

"Yes, they have."

"Would you like to tell me what it is?" she asks. "I have no guarantees, but I may be able to help."

"Well, the deal was mystically sealed. I have to destroy the Carnolan species, and only then will the deal be completed. Until then, Lilah, who works for the Senior Partners, has an amulet, and with it she can control Spike. She can make him do things, terrible things, that would destroy him."

"This amulet, is it mystical in nature?"

"I suppose," I admit. 

Beside me Spike's unhappiness about the threat of control is clear.

"I don't actually know if he'll be safe here in the enclave. Most magics bounce off, but it depends on the source of the magic. If it's closely related to our own, on the same frequency if you like, it'll get through."

"Why would it be on the same frequency?" Spike asks, and there's suspicion on his face.

"No particular reason," Lucy replies, and she seems quite calm.

"So, I'm still a loose cannon," he mutters, and I put a hand on his.

"I won't let you do anything you don't want to," I remind him.

"But what sort of life is that? Having you nursemaid me all the time."

"Wes might find a way round it," I remind him. "Or Willow."

"Might. Don't fancy trusting might be."

Lucy can obviously sense that I need to spend some time alone with Spike, as she gets up and walks towards the office door. "Let me have your cell phone when you're ready," she says as she goes inside.


	25. Chapter 25 – Cutting

Chapter 25 – Cutting

We've been here two days. Two days, in which I've spent time talking, and even more time listening, to women who've decided to spend their lives among demons. I've listened a bit to the men, the Carnolans, too but that's been rather less satisfactory. It seems that Winston's not actually as extreme as I'd hoped. In terms of social understanding, they're all very, well, immature is one way of looking at it. They seem brusque and arrogant and don't seem to have any wish to ingratiate themselves with anyone. Not that I want that, exactly, it's just, when you're dealing with people, there're certain things you expect, certain courtesies and habits you just take for granted. Things like knowing how to have a conversation rather than talking at the other person, and not continually looking me up and down as if I was quite literally on the market. After the first time or two when I met with some men or a mixed group, I left Spike out of these discussions. His temper wasn't coping. Not that this solved the problem, because afterwards I had to deal with a Spike who oscillated between jealous and hopeless and persuade him all over again that I only want him. Mind you, the persuading was fun. And, I can't help but think he's started to realise that I wouldn't be interested in a Carnolan even if he weren't around – his most recent protestation was lacking authenticity.

According to Lucy, the lack of social understanding among the Carnolans has been a problem, and she's been working to put it right. It seems that the way the Carnolan mind works just makes it difficult for them to understand human society. Their priorities are all about making money and their own families and society. In the recent past, the numbers of Carnolans actually persuading a woman to marry them have been few. Of course, the money has helped break the ice, but that, on its own, doesn't last. Apart from anything else, the information on the true identity of a boyfriend is only divulged after gaining the agreement of others. She implied that they had means of understanding the true motives of any of the women suggested, but she went quiet when I tried to find out how that was done.

I wondered about that, because, it seems to me that if there's a man who wants to get physical with a lady, and he can't marry her without getting permission, what's to stop him just going ahead and sleeping with her without disclosure? And, apparently, there's nothing to stop that, at least until the Carnolan is rendered fertile by the death of his mother. And again, there was a distinct clamming up as to how this was enforced.

The women, on the other hand, certainly seem happy. They're either all due Oscars, or it's genuine.

After our conversation with Lucy the other night, I put together a message for Wes. I explained as much as I could, grateful that at least Gina would be able to translate some of the abbreviations I used. If I'd been texting Giles, it'd have been pointless. Lucy suggested that she might get the phone back this morning, so maybe there'll be news.

It's barely dawn, and I'm lying in bed right now, propped on an elbow, watching Spike. I don't think I'll ever get tired of the sight. He looks so … angelic when he's asleep. Peaceful. Beautiful. A work of art. As I watch, he's becoming agitated, and I tense, ready to act if Lilah tries anything, but so far, it seems to be just a dream. I move away from him, just enough to give him room to move as it becomes obvious that he's fighting in this dream. Not that I'm in any danger of being hurt; his movements are just too small and controlled for that. There aren't any words I recognise, but he's muttering something. And then, it stops. He's still again, but before I can lie down close to him, he opens his eyes.

He seems as if he's not quite awake yet, looking at me as if he can't quite be sure I'm there. I put a hand out to touch his face, and he catches it, planting a kiss on my palm.

"I love you," I tell him. I've said it a lot lately, but he doesn't seem to be getting tired of hearing it.

"She said you would tell me."

Not the answer I expected, but I'm intrigued.

"Who?"

"The girl. The girl who was going to be hurt. I was dreaming about it. Back in the school, when I was hearing the voices. You told me there was a girl, and someone was going to hurt her. Some wankers were going to sacrifice her to a demon. She said you'd tell me. Some day, you'd tell me."

"Tell you what?" I ask, remembering Cassie, the girl I couldn't save.

"She didn't say, and I didn't know then. I know now. And you did. The day I burned up, you told me you loved me. How did she know?"

"She just knew, I guess."

He never mentioned what she said. All that time, and he didn't say anything. Did I love him then, right back then, when I was trying to save Cassie? I didn't think so, but … But then I couldn't say when it changed, when it became love.

There's someone knocking at our door, and I jump up and pull on a wrap before going to answer it. Spike, of course, doesn't have a wrap, and pulling on jeans that tight takes a little longer, so he stays where he is.

It's Lucy, and she's holding out my cell phone and a piece of paper.

"Here's your phone back," she tells me. "And there was some voice mail, so I had someone transcribe it before it came back into the enclave. Looks like there're some text messages too, but I don't know what they're about."

"You mean you didn't check?"

"No, I didn't. Obviously, someone had to listen to the voice messages."

I turn around again, closing the door behind me, and fall back on the bed, pressing the keys to access the texts. Spike takes the paper from my hand, and for a moment we both read in silence.

Wes was worried. By the sound of it, my message didn't change that, but he's agreed to wait for now. There's a second message from him that doesn't seem to make much sense.

Tree still working. Believe breakthrough possible. 

I look at it a couple of times before it dawns on me. It's the word breakthrough that does it, in the end. The only breakthrough I'm interested in is the one that will free Spike from Lilah's control. That explains the rest of it. The tree I assume is Willow, and it all sounds hopeful.

By the time I've translated that, Spike's looking over my shoulder. He seems to understand it too, because he looks a little happier than he did.

"What's on the paper?" I ask.

"Dawn's been calling you, sounds worried. And a couple from Gina. Just hoping things are ok, and that she's worrying too."

I take the paper from him, and it's obvious that there's more than these bald statements on it. As I start to read, he grabs some things, pulls on his pants, and tells me he's going to shower.

I read the messages, and, well, there're a lot more words there, but he actually summed it up pretty well. I immediately try to put a text together for Dawn in the hope that I can get Lucy to send it. Unfortunately, there's so much I need to tell her, and it's just not feasible. I stick to the bare fact that I'm safe, and promise to call her first chance I get and suggest she contact Wesley for more information.

I lie back on the bed and consider joining Spike in the shower, but I decide I'm just too comfortable where I am. Anyway, if I'm still here, maybe I can persuade Spike to join me when he comes back, and then I'll need to shower anyway.

I come awake suddenly, the way you do when you had no thought of sleeping in the first place. I'm cold, and, although I've no idea how long I've been asleep, I'm concerned there's no sign that Spike's come back. I go down to the bathroom and I'm surprised to hear water still running. I call on Spike, but he doesn't answer. It occurs to me that it might be Lucy in there now, so I run down to the first floor to see if Spike's there, but deep down, I know something's wrong. I find Lucy in her kitchen, and ask her if she's seen Spike. She says she hasn't, and assumes he's responsible for the lack of hot water. I run back upstairs, hearing Lucy behind me. I call again, and again I get no response. I try the door, and it's locked.

"What's wrong?" Lucy asks from behind me.

I don't answer, I just put my shoulder to the door. The lock gives easily, and I run into the room, pulling aside the curtain. The first thing I see is the blood. Lots of it, running down the drain, mixing with the icy water that's still running. I hear a gasp from Lucy as she follows me in.

Spike's crouching in the bathtub, and he's got a razor blade in his hand. He's been scoring his chest arm and legs, cutting into his flesh, and he's shaking with cold and humming to himself.

I grab the nearest towel, switch off the water and wrap it around him.

"Can you get a first aid kit?" I demand of Lucy, and she nods then disappears.

Spike's shaking his head now, and then he speaks. Or, at least, it's his voice, but I know it's Lilah.

"Just a little reminder, Slayer. I didn't expect to go this long without seeing results. Just don't get sidetracked."

I know the instant she's gone, because Spike goes limp, dropping the blade, no longer needing to resist. I gather him up in my arms, lift him to his feet and turn around to find Lucy behind me, a box in her hand. 

"I'll take him upstairs," I say, starting to walk him there. He's shivering, and I wonder what else Lilah was doing to him. At the door of our bedroom, I turn and take the box from Lucy, then continue to take Spike to the bed. He's weak, but I don't have to carry him.

"I'll go," Lucy says from the doorway. "Let me know if you need anything else."

I smile my thanks towards her, and she closes the door behind her.

Spike's just lying there, the towel covering him like some sort of gory shroud. His eyes are closed, and his breathing's very shallow. I peel back the towel, checking his chest, arms and legs. The cuts are shallow, but they've bled a lot, and he's pale. It's hard to estimate how much blood he's lost, and right now, I really wish he was still a vampire so I could be sure that he'd be ok.

I start to clean him off, gently wiping the cuts on his arm with an antiseptic cloth, and he winces then opens his eyes. He bats my hand away, muttering something and trying to sit up.

"Lie back," I tell him. "Let me check you out."

"I'm fine," he disagrees. "Just surface cuts. Had to do it."

"I know," I say. "Just another item on the reckoning I'm preparing for Lilah. But you must've lost a lot of blood, so I'm going to ask Lucy what they do about injuries round here."

"No," he says, putting a surprisingly strong hand on my arm.

"Spike, you're human now. You need to get checked out, maybe a transfusion. The blood …"

"Was pretty dilute. Look, most of the cuts have already stopped bleeding."

I take another look, and see he's right. Now that the water's no longer obscuring the picture, I can see that some of the cuts have already crusted over, and others look older than they should.

"How long ago did you do some of these?" I ask.

"Started just after I got into the bathroom. Almost as if she knew you were out of the way."

There's another knock on the door then, and Lucy opens it without waiting for an answer. Beside her is Jessie, one of the women I met the other day.

"Lucy told me there's been an accident. Like I said when we talked, I'm a nurse, trained as one anyway, even if I'm not working right now on account of the little ones. She thought maybe I could help."

I nod my head. "Yeah, I think he may need more than a band aid."

Spike's obviously not happy, but he doesn't stop her from examining him, then checking his pulse and blood pressure.

"How long since you gave me my phone back?" I ask, cursing the fact that I had no idea.

Lucy checks her watch before replying. "About an hour and a half, maybe a little more."

I realise then that Spike must have been in that shower for over an hour. But it still doesn't make sense.

Jessie turns round to gesture me back to the bedside.

"He seems to be in pretty good shape considering," she says. "His pulse is a bit high, but that's to be expected, and his blood pressure's at the low end of normal range. He might get a few giddy spells, but he should be fine. It would've been better to let me have a look sooner, though. Some of those cuts are hours old. If you want my professional opinion, he should see a psychiatrist. Cutting himself like that – one day it's going to go too far."

She leaves then, and Lucy gives me a concerned look before leaving too.

"What happened, Spike?" I ask. "Has Lilah been having you cutting yourself for days?"

As I say it, I know it's ridiculous. I've become intimately acquainted with Spike's body lately, and I'd know if this had happened before.

"Don't be daft," he answers. "All happened this morning."

"But she said, …"

"Don't care what she said. Maybe she's not such a good nurse."

"But, she's right," I say, pointing to the cuts on his legs. "They don't look fresh."

"Well, I started there," he admits.

"Yeah, an hour and a bit ago."

"Is that all?" he asks, seeming bewildered.

"Yeah, sorry, I fell asleep. Didn't know you'd even been gone that long." I'm feeling guilty about that, but I force myself to think about something more constructive.

"So, why did she have you cutting yourself? What's that supposed to gain her, except for pissing me off?"

"She didn't want me to cut myself," he says, grimacing and doing that jerky thing with his head.

"What?"

"What do you think, love? She wanted me to hurt you, or failing that, anyone else I could find. Started putting these ideas in my head, and I tried to fight her. She was winning, right up till I found that razor by the bath. Took out the blade, and managed to distract myself."

"You … chose to …"

I punch him lightly on the shoulder, then feel instant remorse when he grimaces.

"But why?"

"She knew you were asleep. She said you'd stay that way too, for a while. But she gave me the choice – hunted through my memories, found an image or two of the kiddies we say yesterday. She … she …"

I lay myself down on the bed beside him, and hold him close. The trembling's started again, but I don't think it's from cold this time. I rock him gently in my arms, and soon he's fallen asleep.

While he sleeps, I'm thinking. He healed, and is healing, fast. Slayer fast. Or vamp fast. And he managed to thwart Lilah. And Lilah managed to get through to him here. Now, does that mean that the compulsion was somehow weakened by the enclave? Or has he really found a way to resist the compulsion. Unfortunately, if the compulsion actually involves hurting himself rather than someone else, I don't see how this method is going to work. Not that I even want a repeat of this method. I don't want to leave him now. The way he's clinging to me is just so needy. But, I need to talk to Lucy. We've found out what we can for now. What I need is to come up with a plan. And to do that, I need better access to Wes and Willow than I've got in here. We need to get back outside the enclave, and we need that now. I just hope I can persuade Lucy.


	26. Chapter 26 A History Lesson

Chapter 26 – A History Lesson

I'm just debating whether or not I can leave Spike so I can talk to Lucy, when I hear her knock at the door. I gently extricate myself from Spike, get up and open it, to find her looking pale and worried.

"I think we should talk," she says.

"Yes. But, I don't want to leave Spike."

She glances over my shoulder at the form on the bed, and nods.

"You hungry?" she asks.

It hadn't occurred to me until she asked, but I find I am.

She seems to know the answer before I say anything.

"I'll bring something up. I've got another chair downstairs too, and we can talk here if you like."

"Thanks," I reply, grateful that she understands. "Just let me get dressed."

She leaves then, so I find some clothes, and pull them on. She returns soon, with a folding table and another chair which she leaves me to arrange. When she comes back, she has a tray with a pot of coffee, toast and some fried eggs. The smell reinforces my hunger, and I check on Spike while she sets it onto the table.

I'm relieved that Spike seems to be sleeping peacefully. I take my seat at the small table, and start to eat. Lucy seems hungry too, and in no time, we've finished the food, and I'm pouring myself another cup of coffee.

"He can't stay here," Lucy says.

I'm surprised, but then I'm not. He's the immediate threat, not me.

"He won't go without me."

She seems to bristle at that, but I can see she makes an effort to relax again.

"We could get rid of him if we need to, but that's not what I had in mind."

"What then?" I ask.

"I think you should both leave."

Ok, not what I was expecting. What I was going to ask, but not what I was expecting.

"Ok," I say, trying not to sound too enthusiastic.

"We'll have to make it look like you've escaped," she goes on. "I mean, so the Senior Partners think you're still working on their problem."

"I haven't said we're not," I remind her.

"I know, but I think you're still considering the matter. Am I right?"

"Well, yes, and to be honest, I'll be happier when I can discuss it with my friends. But you've got to realise that I'm not sure I'll be able to hide what I'm doing from the Senior Partners." Maybe Wesley will have some ideas, or Willow, but I'm strictly into the violence side of any conflict. Subterfuge isn't my strong suit.

"I'll be going with you."

Now, that takes me by surprise.

"A hostage you mean?"

"That's probably the easiest way to explain my presence," she agrees. "But I was hoping to be more of a guest."

"Ok," I agree cautiously. I wish Spike was listening to this. Not that I think he's any cleverer than I am, it's just, two heads and all that.

"And, if I come, I can help with keeping the truth from the Senior Partners."

I get up from the table and wander over to the bed. I want to check on Spike again, but it also gives me a few seconds to think. I'm pleased to note he's still asleep. The effort involved in resisting Lilah's compulsion seems to have exhausted him.

"So, you know how to keep things from the Senior Partners, and you know the source of their power. What I don't understand is why you need my help at all."

"I wasn't going to tell you this, at least, not yet. But, in light of what's happened …"

"I'm listening," I say, returning to the chair.

"I think a history lesson might be appropriate."

I feel my enthusiasm drop through the floor at that. But, I try not to show it.

"A long time ago, a very long time ago, the Carnolan people existed. They were powerful, and, where they came in contact with the primitive humans of the time, they were seen as godlike. They had a magic, something intrinsic to their makeup, which means that even if another species could learn about it, they could never reproduce it. Even though this magic was a part of every Carnolan, there was a small group who were learned in the lore, and who had great power. The lore was passed from father to son, but there were few sons, and the numbers were always small. Over time, the pride and arrogance of this group grew, and they started to call themselves the Chosen. And, inevitably perhaps, they decided they no longer wanted to serve the Carnolan people, but wanted to be served by them. They were annoyed by the insistence of the majority that humanity should not be enslaved. They wanted to remove restrictions around breeding with human women. They wanted power and pleasure, not for the whole people, but just for the few. The result was a war. Despite the power of the few, the war was evenly matched because they were so outnumbered. It took, it is said, five hundred men to thwart the magic of one of the Chosen, but there were those hundreds, and they fought."

"It was stalemate, and both sides knew it. The Chosen decided to change the rules. They found an ally, something that was far more powerful than they, but which was willing to grant them what they needed to defeat us."

She pauses then, but the silence is broken by Spike murmuring something. I jump up and run over to him, but he's already silent again, his breathing steady.

"This power," I ask, returning to the table. "What was it?"

"I'm not sure I can explain it in any detail. But, I believe it was the creation of the entity known as 'The First' that you defeated in Sunnydale. This … it calls itself the Darkness, started as an agent of the First, but it seems that it escaped control. With the Darkness, the Chosen had the means to destroy the rest of the Carnolan people, and achieve the rest of their aims. Their first forays caused untold carnage among the rest of the population. Many believed there could be no escape. Rescue came from an unexpected source. One of the women who lived among the Carnolans at that time, human, of course, was a witch. A powerful witch. Her name is remembered with reverence among all Carnolans. She was called Seosaimhín. She found a way to use the magic of the earth, the magic of the goddess, to shield those who remained. They fled, going into hiding, and she hid them from the Chosen. Although numbers were few, they survived. As Seosaimhín grew older, she knew that the shield would fail when she died. She taught what she knew to the other women, and when she was gone, the others maintained the shielding as well as they could, but they lacked the power, and eventually it failed. However, the Chosen had turned away from their roots by then. Corrupt as they had been, they were further corrupted. They had become immortal, and had amassed great power over both humans and other species of demons. They no longer saw the rest of their kind as a threat, and so they were ignored. And to this day, neither the lore nor the numbers of the Carnolan people have been regained."

She pauses again, looking down at her hands. I know the next bit is the important bit, so I sit silently, determined that nothing should distract her.

"In recent times, those who called themselves the Chosen prefer to control from behind the scenes, using corrupt humans and some demons to do their bidding."

"The Senior Partners," I say quietly. That's what Spike suspected, or was beginning to suspect, when Lucy said that Lilah's control might be able to get through the enclave barrier if the two magics were similar.

She nods.

"So, you see, it wasn't an idle boast when I said that I knew the source of their power. And, for one like you, who defeated the First, it should be possible to defeat the Darkness."

"Willow," I say.

Lucy looks confused for a moment.

"Willow – she's a friend. She helped me, or us, defeat the First. Without her … She's a powerful witch."

"I knew you had the help of one such, but I didn't know her name. I can supply her with the records on the shield used by Seosaimhín. If she can reproduce it …"

"Then, we should be able to keep Spike safe from Lilah," I finish. "But won't they guess what's happening?"

"Hey, I didn't say the plan was foolproof, now did I? It's going to need work, but …"

"It might actually come together."

Spike moans again, louder this time, and I glance over to see his eyes fluttering.

"I think he's waking up," I say.

"If you agree, I'll arrange for us to leave as soon as possible."

"Any chance of getting my phone charged?" I ask. "If I can call ahead, maybe I can get Willow back to LA soon. Or, could we go to her?"

"I think that'd be too suspicious, don't you?"

"Probably," I admit. "Ok, back to plan a."

Lucy picks up the tray with the dirty dishes on it, and I move to sit on the bed next to Spike. He wakens slowly, smiles when he sees me, then his expression changes.

"It's ok, Spike," I reassure. "You didn't hurt anyone, well other than yourself."

"Was a close thing, though. I …"

"You chose to hurt yourself rather than someone else. Can't say I approve of the part that was hurting you, but …"

"Doesn't feel too bad," he notices, flexing his left arm.

I remove the rough bandage I managed to put on his arm, and I'm relieved to notice that it's healing well. As well as I would, or maybe better. The cuts only seemed older than they were as a result of accelerated healing.

He's pushing my hand away, and trying to sit up. I move to give him room, and he tries to stand, but quickly sits back down on the bed. 

"Dizzy?" I ask.

"Just a bit," he admits. "Be fine in a minute."

He carries on removing the bandages, examining the cuts which range from just crusted over to almost closed.

"Healing fast," he notices. "How long?"

I check the time. "Maybe three hours since the first of them?"

He nods. "I'd guess that's faster than when I was a vamp. But then, lack of actual circulation meant it wasn't a big problem."

"Any idea why?" I ask. "The strength, and the healing – do you know why?"

"Not a clue. That's a question for the witch and the Watcher, if we ever get out of here."

"They're going to let us go."

He stops what he's doing at that. 

"Why?"

"Well, mainly because they've decided you're too dangerous to have around. And, partly, I think, because they think Willow'll be able to help."

"I think you've got some talking to do," he tells me. "Throw me some clothes, and tell me what happened while I was having my beauty sleep."

"I'll tell you, but first, let me go and get you something to eat. Lucy and I had some breakfast while you were asleep."

He seems to consider that for a moment, then shakes his head.

"I'm not sure I could stomach anything just now. Maybe in a while. So, let me get dressed, and then you can tell me what's happening."

I manage to persuade him to sit up on the bed when he's dressed. I think the giddiness is passing, but it's not gone. I spend a few minutes telling him as much as I remember of Lucy's story, with Spike's questions reminding me of bits I missed. When I get to the part where I tell him that the Senior Partners are Carnolans, he smiles. 

"Thought there was something funny about that. I mean, we couldn't tell her anything about that amulet, so why would she even consider the possibility that its magic might be related to what powers the enclave?"

He stops then, his eyes narrowing a bit as he thinks of something else.

"But if that's true, there isn't much chance that Willow will be able to do anything permanent about my control by the amulet. A shield's only a temporary measure at best."

"But there is a chance that one of the Carnolans could do something about it."

"Well, providing it's not in the realms of that lost lore, I suppose."

"Did she say how we're going home?"

"No, you were waking up, and I wanted to see how you were. She said she had to arrange things."

We chat a bit longer, or at least, I chat, and Spike doesn't say a lot. I know he's upset about what happened, and I understand it. I just wish I could show him it wasn't his fault. I wish he could see that choosing to hurt himself rather than anyone else makes him pretty much the hero of the piece. 

We pick up our belongings, throwing them back into our bags. When we go back downstairs, Lucy isn't alone. She introduces her companion as Clinton and comments that he's one of their current experts in Carnolan lore. He's also going to get us through the barrier that encloses the enclave.

That sounds fairly simple, since it's just a matter of one of them zapping us. Well, the phrase used was 'imparting a resonating energy wave', but I prefer zapping. I'm assured it's painless, and that Lucy's had it done countless times. This Clinton is going to travel with us in the back of a van. He'll then be coming and going from my apartment, and we're going to have to smuggle him inside my apartment when we get back, but that's a problem for then. 

When we go outside, the van is waiting. It's large and black, with seats in the back, but the windows are so tinted as to make the occupants invisible. Clinton climbs into the back, and Lucy takes the driver's seat. She glances at me in invitation, so I join her in the front, and Spike climbs in the back with Clinton. I certainly don't want to drive, and I'm not sure Spike should be driving just in case he has another of those dizzy spells. One or two onlookers seem to be glowering at us as we move off.

"They don't seem too happy," I comment to Lucy.

"There was considerable resistance to my leaving with you," she replies. "As their leader, it was felt I was too valuable to be risked, but I insisted that it had to be me."

"Why?"

"Well, it's bound to be easier since I'm human. I'll be more comfortable with you and your friends. And then, I'm more able to defend myself than any other of our women. And, from the hostage point of view, that's bound to be more believable given my position."

I nod. She looks as if she'd like to add something, so I keep my eyes on her.

"And then there's the fact that I'm a Slayer. I kind of like the idea of being able to be part of that life too, even if it's only for a little while."

We drive towards the edge of the enclave, and as we approach it, I feel a tingle, like a small electric shock, that seems to permeate not just me, but the van itself. We approach the mirror-like surface of the barrier, and go straight through.

Interestingly, we seem to be in a tunnel – a tunnel made of whatever the enclave is made of. If they can do that, it sort of explains why there aren't visible tracks which could lead to the location of the enclave. Glancing in the side mirror, I see the tunnel apparently collapsing as we go, never quite catching up with us, and behind us, there are no tracks. This magic of the Carnolans seems to be very practical. 

I glance in the back. Clinton seems to be asleep, his eyes closed. Spike's eyes are closed too, but he's not sleeping. He's tense; I can see it in his arm muscles. He's still upset by what happened, and scared that he might not be able to resist again. 

While we got things together to leave, Spike talked a little about his ordeal in the shower. Like last time, Lilah looked through Spike's memories to come up with ideas of what to force him to do. The scene she had dragged to the front of his mind was something particularly gruesome, although he refused to give me the details. I do know that it was something Angelus planned, though. 

I give up thinking about that. Whatever it was, it's just not fair that Spike had to think about it again. 

The tunnel ends as we get to a rough road. There isn't any traffic visible on it, but Lucy double checks anyway before turning onto it. I'm just thinking that it's surprising that Lucy's going to let us know the location of the enclave, when there's a sudden lurch. My first thought is that the van hit something, but then I realise it's full dark, and the road we're on isn't a rough track in the desert any more. We're in LA, or the outskirts of it anyway.

"What the bloody …?" comes from the back.

"What just happened?" I demand, turning to talk to Lucy.

"Don't worry," she says. "It's just a little confusion thing, so you won't be able to remember the location of the enclave. Clinton just arranged that you wouldn't remember the past few hours. I know, it's an invasion of your mind, and I wouldn't have agreed to it if there'd been any alternative. Originally, we planned to sedate you for the journey back, but that wouldn't work if you were supposed to be escaping."

"If you're trying to persuade us to help you, that's really not the way to go about it."

"In the end, Buffy, you'll have to choose between us and the Senior Partners. If you're the Slayer I believe you are, you'll make the right decision, and you won't let something like this get in the way. And, if you decide in favour of the Senior Partners, then I'll be dead, so it won't matter to me by then anyway."

And, you know what? I get it. I understand that what she's saying is that she's a leader, and she's got to make tough decisions. She's got to do some things that she wishes weren't necessary, but she knows they are. And if making me forget what was probably an extremely boring road trip is the worst of it, then maybe it's not a big deal.

"It wasn't my decision," she continues. "It's a question of long held custom – no one is allowed to know where our enclaves are until they agree to join their lives to ours."

"And putting a blindfold on wouldn't have the same effect?" I manage. Well, I might understand, but that doesn't mean I'm not annoyed.

"No, it wouldn't, as I'm sure you know. Now, would you like to direct me to your apartment? Or do you wish to go elsewhere?"

"My apartment's fine," I answer. "I don't suppose you let anyone know we're coming home?"

"No, I didn't. While I realise that your friends need to know, I'd rather Clinton is out of the way first. I have begun to know you two, and even to trust you up to a point, but I don't know your friends."

She has a point, of course.

We arrive at my apartment, and by mutual consent, we decide that Lucy should pretend to be unconscious, and that Spike should carry her. While he does that, Clinton gets out quietly, and seems to disappear from sight. I shrug my shoulders, and follow Spike and Lucy inside, only to find that Clinton got there before me. 

Once there, Clinton takes up residence in the living room, doing what Lucy explains as some security. He hasn't spoken a word that I remember, and I decide to just ignore him for now. I set about making Lucy comfortable in one of the spare bedrooms. Since I moved in here, the other bedrooms have had more use than I'd have expected! Once she's established there, I go in search of Spike. I assume he's in front of the TV, and I'm right, except the set's not on. And Clinton has disappeared.

"Where's …?"

"Don't know. Heard the door close, though, so it looks like he's off to do whatever Carnolans do."

I have to say, I feel like I'm not in control right now, and I'm not happy about it. But, there are things I need to do. It's almost six, and I decide to call Willow. I'll probably wake her, but it won't be the first time I've done that.

I pick up my cell phone. The first thing I notice is that I've had a couple of calls recently. I check who's called, and, hardly surprisingly, it's Wes. Ignoring that for a moment, I call Willow. We need her to come here, and the sooner she's on the plane, the better for all concerned.

I explain what I can, without going into too much detail on the phone, and Willow agrees to book the first flight. Having dealt with that, I call Wes. The phone rings, and I'm on the verge of giving up when he picks up.

"Wes?" I ask when no one says anything.

"Buffy? Is that you?"

"Yeah," I reply, but I'm on the alert, and so is Spike by the look of him. I've only heard him say one word, but I know there's something wrong.

"What's happened?"

"It's Gina. I left you a message, asking you to call, but I didn't know when you'd get it."

"What about Gina?"

Wes continues to mumble something in the background, and I have to repeat myself more loudly to break through to him.

"What about Gina?"

"She's gone. Lilah … Lilah's got her."


	27. Chapter 27 – Unravelling

Chapter 27 – Unravelling

"What do you mean, Lilah's got Gina?"

I hear Wes taking a deep breath, and I wait for him to calm a bit. When he speaks again, he sounds exhausted.

"To be honest, I don't know. Just … who else could it be? The place has been searched, but they don't seem to have taken anything. And she's not here."

"Do you want us to come over?"

"Yes, … no. I'll come to you. I can't think straight here anyway."

We hang up then, and I quickly fill Spike in on the situation. His expression leaves me in no doubt of the depth of his feelings on the matter. He hasn't known Gina for long, but he was already very fond of her. The only positive thing is that I'd bet it's taken his mind off his own problems.

A moment later, Lucy joins us. She looks tired, and I thought she'd gone to bed, but apparently she didn't.

"Is something wrong?" she asks.

I repeat the story, and add the news that Wes is due any moment.

"I may be able to help," she offers. "But I need to know something first. Clinton might be able to track your friend, do a location spell of sorts. But, if I ask him to come here, I need to know that he'll be safe."

"If he's trying to help, why wouldn't he be?" Spike demands.

"Well, from what you've told me about this Wes, he was trained as a Watcher. The Council of Watchers isn't known for its tolerance of demons, regardless of their motives."

"You're talking about a man who's been working with Angel for years, and who didn't balk at the idea of bringing Spike back, even though we expected him to be as he was before." I'm irritated, and I make an effort to calm myself. It's just that Gina's in danger. We can't afford to waste time.

"You believe that Clinton will be safe, then?"

"Providing he does nothing to threaten one of us, I don't see why not."

"Very well, I will ask him to come. Although he is well able to defend himself, I would rather that it didn't become necessary."

She disappears again, into the bedroom, and a moment later the phone rings. It's Willow, and she's got her flights arranged, but she won't be here until late tonight. In the meantime, it looks like we're going to need Clinton.

He arrives a few moments later. Lucy seems to know he's there, and goes to open the door for him. I wonder again about how they're communicating. I mean, even if she's got a cell phone, it's not a lot of use if he doesn't speak.

He says nothing, big surprise there, and hovers close to Lucy as she sits again. I can't help but study him a bit. He's not like any of the other Carnolans we met. Oh, he's tall, dark and, well, handsome enough to get a second look or two. But the others all seemed a bit full of their own importance, and very keen to talk. I'm not sure he even can talk. Maybe it's like monks, and he's taken a vow of silence or something. I'm interrupted from my musing by Spike's hand on my arm. It's only then that I realise I've been staring a bit. He looks worried, and I just love him more. The pressure of his hand is reassuring, and I sit closer to him, hoping to share some of that reassurance with him. 

A moment later I hear a key in the lock, and just after that, Wes appears. He and Gina took a key before we left so they could keep an eye on the place.

We do a minimal introduction, and explain why we're back. Once that's out of the way, Wes tells us what's happened here.

"Ok, you know I've been trying to use my contacts to set up a freelance demon hunting business, what with the difference in opinion I had with my previous employers. Well, I got a call tonight from the owner of a small theatre. It seems something's been munching on patrons as they leave in the evening, and it's giving the theatre a bad name, so he asked me to come out and investigate. I left about nine, got to the theatre, and had a look around the area. I found a vampire nest nearby. With hindsight, maybe I found it too easily, I don't know. It was empty, of course, at that time of night, so I went back to the theatre and waited until the show finished. I caught a couple of vamps who'd managed to manoeuvre a young couple into an alley, and managed to stake them. Once I'd finished, I spotted another, but he ran. I gave chase, even stayed in sight of him for a while, but he had the advantage of not having to breathe. I planned on going back to the nest in daylight to finish him off."

His expression changes then, going from very businesslike, very much the Wes I'm familiar with, to something much more vulnerable.

"By the time I got back, it was after three. I expected Gina to be in bed, but there was no sign of her. The apartment looked like it had been searched, but nothing was taken, as far as I could tell. Certainly, my files and other valuables all seemed to be there. I spotted her cell phone lying on the table, and it's not like her to leave that behind. I spent some time trying to ring you, checking with her friends, anyone she might have run to. I even called Angel and Fred, but they couldn't tell me anything. I searched the apartment, looking for something, any clue, but there was nothing. I was just considering whether to call the police, when you called me on my home number, and I got ready to come here. That's when I noticed that I'd lost my own cell, so I picked up Gina's. Then, on a hunch, I checked through the received calls, and she had one, apparently from my phone, a couple of hours after I went out. I didn't make that call. I had my phone with me when I went out, but I didn't use it. I assume it fell out of my pocket some time in the evening."

"So, maybe, the whole point of the job was to get you out of the way, and relieve you of your cell," I surmise.

Wes' face crumples at that. "It's my fault. I should have known …"

"No," I tell him, moving towards him and putting an arm around his shoulder. "Whoever did this knows you, knew how you'd react. So, yeah, it's probably Lilah. But, Willow's on her way, and in the meantime, Lucy's brought someone who might be able to help too. Clinton's going to do a tracing spell."

Lucy takes over the explanation then. 

"My friend Clinton may be able to find your wife," she offers. "However, he will need something of hers – something she normally keeps close to her."

Wes's shoulders slump as he thinks about that, and then he straightens suddenly. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out his wallet. He opens it, and removes a ring. I recognise it instantly; it's Gina's engagement ring.

"Her fingers were swollen when we were out today. She was finding it uncomfortable, but she didn't have a pocket so she asked me to look after it for her."

His fingers are trembling slightly as he hands it over.

Clinton takes the ring from his fingers, holding it as if it were fragile. He then produces a map from his pocket. It looks like a photocopy or something – or maybe it's from a computer. Anyway, the scale is very small. He lays the map out on the floor in front of him, and I'm waiting for the inevitable candles, but he doesn't seem to have any. Magic without candles seems wrong, somehow.

What he does then is very odd. He places the ring in the centre of the map and starts to wrap it like a very small gift. My first thought is that the map's not going to be of any use after this, as it gets folded into ever smaller bits. When the ring is parcelled within the map, he holds it in his cupped hands, and closes his eyes. Then, for the first time I hear his voice. He doesn't speak, he sings, or rather, hums. The note is pure and low, deep but without any of the roughness so common on lower notes. It's almost hypnotic, and I can feel my attention riveted to the parcel in his hands.

And then, the note stops. Clinton starts to unwrap the ring, and I wonder why the magic failed. I expected a change, something spectacular, but there was nothing. As he finishes unwrapping the map, I realise it's different. The scale is much bigger, but it's blurred, almost as if it's out of focus. He stares at it for a moment, then shakes his head.

"What is it?" Wes demands. He's getting closer to Clinton, but Lucy steps between them.

"Her position is being shielded. The spell has given a general indication, but it can't get through the shielding to find her exact location."

"But, if the magic that's shielding her is Carnolan, shouldn't this get through?" Spike demands.

"It should. Therefore, the magic is not Carnolan."

I look at the map. The area seems familiar - it looks like the southern part of the rough triangle that's formed by the San Diego, Ventura, and Golden State freeways. It doesn't help much. The area is packed with apartment buildings, offices, and businesses; she could be held anywhere. Without better information, we stand no chance of finding her. 

I glance at Wes, and he's worked out as much as I have. 

"Still," I try to reassure him. "If she's a hostage, it's in their interest to keep her safe, and Willow might be able to tell us more."

"If she's a hostage, there'd be some sort of message," he argues. "We'd have some sort of confirmation."

"Maybe there is, but it's gone to your place," Spike points out. Wes starts guiltily.

"You're right, I should get back."

"I'm coming too," I tell him.

"You don't need to, you probably need to sleep," he argues.

"And you don't?"

He stops arguing then, and I get up.

"Wes, just let me wash my face, and I'll be ready."

I go into my bedroom, and Spike follows.

"I take it you want me to stay and defend our hostage."

"Yeah, please."

He nods. "Come back soon as you can. Can't help but think we're more vulnerable split up."

"I know. Poor Gina," I say, feeling more scared for her than I want to feel for anyone.

"Yeah," he agrees, putting his arms around me. I lean my head on his chest and just enjoy a few moments of peace.

"Funny, though," he says.

"What?"

"Why would Lilah hide Gina behind magic that's not Carnolan? She doesn't know we've got access to Carnolan magic, but she does know that we've got access to other magics. I don't know if she knows Willow's been involved so far or not, but she's bound to realise that we needed some pretty big mojo to create an army of slayers." 

He lets me think about that for a moment, before stating the conclusion that was starting to form in my own mind.

"Unless she's trying to hide Gina from the Senior Partners."

"But why would she do that?" I ask. 

Spike shrugs.

"I can't see it," he admits. "From what you've told me, she's always worked for them. They own her, even after her death."

"They do. Wes tried to free her before she died. He burned her contract, but it didn't help."

"Maybe, this is her way of saying, 'thanks'."

It seems unlikely, but I suppose it's possible.

Spike goes back to the living room then, and I go to wash. When I finish in the bathroom, I go out into the hallway, but hear someone at the front door. I approach and see an envelope being pushed under the door. I pick up the envelope, and immediately open the door, hurrying towards the door to the stairwell that's still swinging. I go through it, and down to the lobby that's filled with sunshine as it always is in the morning. And there, in front of me, is a vaguely human form which is on fire, silently screaming and reaching towards something as it turns to dust. Shocked, it takes a second before I put everything together. The vampire, and I've got to assume that's what it was, was trying to reach an old blanket which is lying close to the door to the street. 

I hear someone approaching from behind, and look to see Spike. He moves straight for the blanket, lifting it to his nose.

"Vampire?" he asks.

"Looked like it. The question is, did he or she intend to get sunburned, or did they just mis-time their escape?"

I approach the door, but I don't see any obvious escape route. 

"I think they used this to get in," Spike informs me. "S'been used as a sunshade. You can't stop getting a bit singed doing that, and I should know. Always leaves a bit of smell on the blanket."

"But it was lying in full sun," I say, still confused.

"Well, either they were very careless about where they left it, or someone moved it," he answers.

For the first time I look at the envelope in my hand. It has Wesley's name on it.

We go back inside, and I hand it to Wes.

"Looks like they found you," I offer.

He tears it open, pulling out a sheet of very fine paper.

He reads it through, then goes back to the beginning, and reads it aloud.

Wes,

Don't try to find Gina. She's safe for now. Don't worry. 

And, this note's been specially treated. After a minute or two of being in the air, it'll disintegrate.

Lilah

As he says the last words, the paper starts to curl at the edges, then it just turns to dust.

"Now, that's a welcome variation on the Mission Impossible theme," Spike comments, looking impressed.

"Who delivered it?" Wes demands. 

"Whoever it was came to a dusty end," I answer. "Personally, I think that's carrying the Mission Impossible idea a bit too far. Looks like Lilah's doing her best to make sure this can't be traced to her."

Wes is looking very confused now, and I nudge Spike.

"Spike, tell Wes what you said to me earlier," I ask.

As he turns to do that, I go to Lucy. I look around, realising that Clinton's gone again.

"Where's Clinton?"

"He has things to attend to. When your other friend arrives, he'll be back. He's going to need to find out what he can about the amulet if we're going to be able to destroy the link between Spike and Lilah."

"Ok," I say. "Seems reasonable. Anything else you need?"

"Well, details on the contract that you've made with the Senior Partners would be helpful too. There may be something in the wording that might help. Who was party to that?"

"Well, I've got a paper contract, but both Wesley and I experienced it at the time."

"Good, two minds will be better than one. If I can read the contract for now? I suspect your watcher friend is too upset to be very useful at the moment."

I fetch the contract, and hand it to Lucy. She gets up to take it to her room. I follow her out on the pretext of making sure she's got towels.

"There's one thing I've been wondering about," I say.

She looks at me and smiles.

"Only one?"

"Well, one for now. Why doesn't Clinton speak? I was starting to think he was mute or something. Can he speak?"

"Clinton can speak very well, my dear. He simply chooses not to. Those who are learned in the lore, and there are many more of them than there were historically, are wary of using their voices other than for the magic. There have been … accidents. The magic of the Carnolans is activated by the rather unusual harmonics produced by their voices. Although it's unlikely, it's possible to activate something unexpectedly, and so they choose not to speak."

"So, how do they communicate?"

She smiles at that, then seems to focus somewhere else for a moment. The next thing I know, I hear a voice in my head. It's the most beautiful voice I've ever heard, and I know it's Clinton's.

"We use this method," I hear, quite clearly, even though I know that my ears had nothing to do with the hearing.

"I can project words into your mind," the voice continues. 

"And can you read my mind?" I think back.

There's no reaction, so I try asking the question out loud.

"Does that mean he can read my mind?"

"No," reassures Lucy. "Humans can be taught to communicate with an adept like Clinton, but it doesn't come naturally. Even then, there has to be an intent to communicate, so your private thoughts are safe."

I realise that I'm relieved to hear that. The idea that Carnolans could pick up on my private thoughts isn't a particularly happy one.

When I return to the living room, it's to find Wesley and Spike getting ready to leave.

"Wes wants to visit his contact from last night," Spike explains. "He was going to go alone, but I persuaded him he'd do better with some company."

"Oh," is all I manage to that. Of course, I'd like to go, but … 

"We won't be long, just a quick visit, a little bit of mindless violence, and we'll find out who put him up to contacting Wes last night. Should be back in a couple of hours."

And, do you know? He's so much the Spike I know in that instant, that I can't think of anything else to say.


	28. Chapter 28 Talking and Listening

Chapter 28 – Talking and Listening

And suddenly, I'm alone. Well, Lucy's in her room, but I can't see her so that doesn't count. Wes and Spike went off a few minutes ago, Wes all grim determination, and Spike twitching with excitement despite his almost equal resolve. 

I sit down for a moment. I should go to bed, I know that, but right now, I'm too wired to sleep. And I'm probably crazy, but the idea of going to bed without Spike right now – not one that appeals.

I spot my cell phone on the table where I left it, and I realise that it's past time I told Dawn what's been happening. Checking my watch, I realise she should be just about out of bed. Unlike her teenage self, she's an early riser these days. Which is just as well, because I don't want to wait any longer to phone her.

"Hey, Dawn," I greet her.

"Oh, hello, prodigal sister. Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you for …"

"I know, Dawn, and I'm sorry. Look, can you talk now? Because what I've got to tell you might take a while."

"Er, ok," she answers, curiosity obvious in her voice. "Let me just pour some coffee, and get comfortable."

"You sure I'm not going to make you late for work?"

"Buffy, this sounds important. And, so I go in a little late? It's not like I stick to a set time to finish."

I hear some rustling in the background, and I get a mental picture of her holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder while she gets her coffee and takes it into her living room to sit down.

"Right, you have my attention**,**" she announces suddenly, and I've got to speak. The only problem is I don't know where to begin. But, I've got to start somewhere, and I remember the last thing I discussed with her.

"Remember when I split up with Angel?"

"Yes …" she answers, sounding as if she's expecting bad news.

"Well, just after that I went out of state for a few days, and my memories of Sunnydale got clearer. I started remembering details I'd forgotten, and thinking about Spike became the norm again, rather than something I had to concentrate on. It seems someone had been trying to make me forget about him. Wes was affected too, and Willow did something so we wouldn't forget again. And I had these dreams about Spike."

"Buffy, maybe forgetting about Spike was a good thing. You were so much happier when …"

"When I had the memories stolen?" I demand. "That wasn't happiness, not really. It was just taking away the pain without doing anything to heal the injury. Anyway, to cut a very long story short, it seems that the amulet Spike wore in Sunnydale came with a 'come back' clause. And he did. He came back."

The silence at the other end of the line is literally deafening.

"Buffy, did you say Spike came back?"

"Yes."

"Wow. So, what happened? I mean, how did he come back? Did he still have his soul or has he gone back to being the big bad?"

"Dawn, he came back human."

"Ok, now, just making sure. He came back human?"

"That's right."

"So, where is he now? What's he doing?"

"Right now, he's off with Wes seeing to some business."

"But, you're not together, are you? I mean, after everything, I know you were friends again, but you wouldn't …"

"Dawn, I love him. I've loved him since those last few months in Sunnydale, and maybe before then. And he still loves me. So, yes, we're together."

There's another silent pause until Dawn speaks again.

"Buffy, are you sure? I mean, after …"

"Dawn, I've never been so sure of anything in my life."

"Are you happy?"

"That's hard. No, things aren't perfect right now. There've been some consequences to bringing him back, and there's some bad stuff to sort out, Slayery stuff that I'm not going to discuss on the phone. But I know I can't be happy without him, so I really want to give it a go."

"Slayery stuff? I thought you'd retired."

"Let's just say I wasn't given much choice."

"Ok, so, how is human Spike doing? I mean, you didn't cope well with Riley being all weak and kitteny."

"He's not."

"Not kitteny?"

"Something like that. He wasn't happy about being human, not at first. But I think he's getting used to it. Look, I can't say much more right now. When it's all over, how about Spike and I come for a visit?"

"I don't know," she says, and she sounds more subdued than during the rest of the conversation.

"What don't you know?"

"I don't know if I want to see him. I mean, after what he did, or tried to do … to you. Then he ran. He ran away."

"He came back, though."

"I know, but then, I wasn't … I didn't …"

"You were good friends once."

"I know. But we weren't at the end. I don't think he forgave me for that time when I kicked you out of the house. I didn't think I cared about him then, but the way he looked at me after that, it hurt. There was so much. I don't know. And anyway, why hasn't he called me? Why did he leave it up to you to tell me?"

"About the first thing he did was look up your number on my cell phone. I think he even dialled, but didn't speak. He needed to know you were ok."

"But he couldn't talk to me."

"I expect he didn't know whether or not you'd want to talk to him. Hardly surprising when it seems you don't know either."

"Ok, look, I've got to get ready for work. I'll think about it."

"Promise?"

"Promise. But you've got to tell me everything. I get that you can't say it all on the phone, but I really want to know."

"I will. When we get through this, I'll come and visit, and it'll be up to you whether or not you talk to Spike. How does that sound?"

"Good, I think."

We finish the call, and I stand up and stretch. The call to Dawn seems to have taken the last of my energy, so I decide to go and lie down on top of the bed. I don't want to go to bed until Spike gets back, but lying on top of the covers, fully clothed, doesn't count, does it?

I go into the hallway, and, out of habit, go to check the door is locked. As I reach for the handle, someone turns it from the outside, so I step back, out of the way, ready to defend myself.

When the door opens, I'm surprised. Of all the people likely to be letting themselves into my home, I think she's about the least likely. Lilah Morgan.

She holds her hands up in a defensive gesture saying, "Hold on there, Slayer. There're some things you need to hear, and then I'll be gone."

I look at her for several moments, wondering at the nerve that would bring her here. I'm surprised I haven't hit her already, and I try to work out why. It occurs to me that she's changed since I last saw her. Then, she was all confident arrogance. Now, she's … well, if I didn't know better, I'd say she looks scared.

"This had better be good," I reply, taking on a defensive stance. "And I can always get with the causing you pain afterwards."

"Can we sit down?" she asks, and again I'm struck with how different she is.

I nod, and gesture her towards the living room. Once in there, she takes off her jacket, and her bare arms are covered with strange black symbols.

"Not your usual ," I comment, nodding towards her arms.

"Well, you're right, but I thought it suited me better than the alternative."

"Which is?"

"Battered, bruised and screaming in pain?"

"Is that supposed to protect you from me?" I ask in total disbelief.

"No, it's supposed to protect me from something I'm actually afraid of."

Ok, not sure what's going on now, but she's got my attention.

"You said you had something to say," I remind her.

"Yes," she agrees. "And it's important."

"So, talk."

And she does. 

"I'm a simple gal really. Knew what I wanted, and that was power. Wanted to make sure I would never be dependent on another human being. I wanted to be my own person, and I honestly didn't care much if I hurt someone else on the way. It's a simple life, really. Keeps the options straightforward."

I haven't said anything, but maybe the fact that I'm tapping my foot impatiently has given her the impression that I'm waiting for this to be worth listening to.

"I've done things that would upset most consciences. I've done things that would turn most stomachs. And, you know what? I've never regretted it. Never. And then, out of the blue, I get some instructions, and I can't do it. Not only can't I do it, but I can't come up with a single alternative that would pacify the Senior Partners. They're adamant that there's only one way, and all my suggestions were ignored."

She stops again as if she's still struggling to understand this strange aberration in her personality.

"What did they ask you to do?" I demand, although I've already got an idea.

"They told me to take Gina, and deliver her to a holding dimension. They needed to have a lever for you since Spike was clever enough to find a way past the compulsion of the amulet."

"But you took her, anyway."

"Yes, I did. I took her, but I hid her. It was an impulse thing. I couldn't do that to Wes. And before you start thinking it, I haven't gone soft. I don't love him, never did. But … there's something about him. You know? Something sort of old world noble, and I just couldn't do that to him."

"So where is she?"

"She's safe. Really. It would be better if you don't try to find her. When it's safe, those who're keeping her for me will know, and they'll be in touch."

"But, what's to stop the Senior Partners from finding you and getting the information from you?"

"Well, there's the latest accessory in being inconspicuous," she says as she glances at the marks on her arms.

"They hide you?"

"Yes. And you'd better hope they're good, because they're what I used to hide Gina too."

"So that's your plan. You hide until it's all gone quiet, and then you go back to business as usual."

She looks at me in frank disbelief.

"You don't know the Senior Partners at all, do you?"

I assume that's one of those questions that don't need an answer, so I don't attempt one.

"They won't forgive this. There isn't any way I can get back after this."

"So you're planning on, what, hiding out for the rest of your life? No, wait, you're not alive."

"What I'm planning on is using my escape plan."

"You've got an escape plan?"

"Well, yeah. Wes got me thinking. Back then, he tried to burn my contract, tried to set me free. And I thought, maybe, there'd come a time when I needed to get out. But they own me. They've got my soul, and there's no way I can ever get it back. Wes doesn't know it, but he did the research, or most of it. I came up with a way to get out, but it means I get right out."

"What do you mean, 'right out'?"

"It means I just won't exist any more. No body, no soul, no memories, no Lilah. It just extinguishes everything that makes me me. And you know, since I died, nothing has the same meaning. It's been a bit like sitting down to the most amazing banquet and finding it all tastes of sawdust."

"So, you destroy yourself. What do you want, a medal? Because …"

"Slayer, I'm not going to waste any more time on this. I need you to believe that Gina is safe. Personally, I don't care about the girl. She's nothing to me, but I couldn't be responsible for the pain it would cause Wesley if she was hurt. So, I did what I did. Now, if you take her from where she's safe, that's on your conscience, not mine."

"It's not that simple," I argue.

"No, really, it is."

And to her, I've got no doubt that's true.

She stands up then, and reaches over to where she left her jacket, and takes a small crystal out of the pocket. It's clear, maybe an inch and a half across and it could almost be diamond, but if it is, it's got a huge flaw in the centre. The innermost part of the stone is an inky black mixed with a sickly green, and it's roiling about in there. Lilah's staring at it, as if transfixed.

"Not exactly pretty, is it?" she comments, but she's not really talking to me.

"What are you going to do?" I ask.

She answers, but again, I don't think she's talking to me.

"It's my essence. It needs to be kept somewhere, or it will cease to be. It took me a good deal of bribery to get it in one of these, but, like I said, I needed an escape route. All I have to do is let it out into the air, and I'll be gone. Even my soul will just cease to exist."

She takes one last look at the crystal before closing her hand around it.

"Tell Wes to hang in there. Tell him, … tell him, … it's sometimes the strangest things that come back to bite you."

With that, she grips the crystal tighter, and I see her wince in pain. I wonder what she's doing, because I don't believe she's going to be able to crush that stone. My eyes are on her hand, and then I see the blood start to seep from her closed fist. She opens her hand again, and I can see it. The blood, from several deep wounds on her hand, is eroding the crystal, as if it's acid, thinning out the barrier between her essence and the world. And then, the first gap in the barrier appears, and the greeny black stuff starts to leak out, but it never makes it. No sooner does it emerge, than it disappears. It only takes about a minute, and it's all gone, and when I look up, so is Lilah.

I stand there in shock for a moment, almost unable to take in what I've seen. And then I notice the jacket, still lying on my sofa where she threw it. It looks so odd there, like a bad memory, so I pick it up intending to put it straight into the trash. But there's something odd about it – it seems strangely heavy. I frisk the jacket, trying to find what's there, and I feel something hard and heavy in one of the pockets. I turn the jacket upside-down over the sofa, and watch as something falls from the pocket. I gaze at it in disbelief for a second before picking it up. I can only assume this is Lilah's way of persuading me that she's been telling the truth. I can't believe I've got it in my hand, but it's there, hard and solid. It's the controller for the amulet.


	29. Chapter 29 Slayer Central Reconvened

Chapter 29 – Slayer Central - Reconvened

I'm sitting on my sofa, staring at the bracelet in my hand. It's actually quite pretty, and I vaguely remember quipping to Angel that I had nothing to go with the amulet. It feels strangely heavy in my hands, heavier than it looks, and I can almost feel my eyes getting lost in the patterns made by the intricate chain. I've never had the chance to see it so close, so I'd never noticed just how detailed the chain was. I wrench my eyes away from it, worried that it might just be hypnotic in some way, but I can't stop myself pouring the chain from one hand to the other as I contemplate what just happened.

The Lilah I know wouldn't do what she just said she did. Not that I know her, except by reputation, but it's a fairly specific reputation. Everything she said about herself meshed with what I'd heard. It's what she said she just did that's the problem.

I find I'm shivering, and glancing at my watch, I know I've been sitting here for a while. A sound from the hallway attracts my attention, and I wonder if it's Lucy. I haven't seen or heard anything of her since before Lilah came.

I look up in time to see Spike come in.

"Bloody waste of time, that was," he's muttering as he slips out of his jacket, then sits and pulls off his shoes. "Bloke we were after's dead in a pool of his own blood, and the vamp nest's deserted. That Lilah bird knows how to cover her tracks, that's for sure. Wes's gone back to his apartment to get some sleep, but I don't think he's going to get any. Wired tighter than a …"

He finally manages to kick off his second shoe, and he turns his attention to me. Immediately, his expression changes, becoming concerned.

"What's up, Love?" he asks. "You look white as a sheet."

He gets up again, and comes to sit beside me. Wordlessly, I hand him the controller. He looks at it, running the chain through his fingers.

"It looks like the amulet," he mutters. "Is it …?"

"The controller," I answer his unfinished question.

"How?"

I shake my head, not really sure of the detailed answer to that question. Instead, I tell him what I saw and experienced, trying to remember as much detail as I can.

The relief on his face is palpable as I finish the story, but it's quickly replaced by a shadow of doubt.

"Is it real?" he asks.

"I really don't know," I answer, suddenly overcome with a weariness that's hard to ignore. "It looks like it, but I don't know how to operate it, and that's the only way I know of that we could check its authenticity."

"Maybe we should destroy it," he suggests.

I consider that for a moment, but shake my head. "We're not destroying anything until we're sure that won't result in sending you back to where you came from."

"Good point," he nods, then adds, "Likely Willow or the Watcher'll know how to check if it's kosher or not."

"Or Lucy," I add.

"Yeah. When's Willow's flight due in?"

"Ten," I answer.

"You look like you could do with a rest for now."

"Yeah," I agree. "But you look like you need to get rid of some tension."

"Well," he says, running his tongue over his teeth. "I can think of something that might answer both requirements."

I thought he was more like himself before he left with Wesley, but I didn't expect it to last. Now that he thinks he might be in control again, maybe it will. I can't help myself, I just laugh. It's not a belly laugh, more the sort of giggle that comes from a combination of extreme tiredness and relief. I wonder as I start whether he's going to take it the wrong way, the way so many of the things we both said in the past came out sounding worse than we intended, but there's no way I can stop it, and after a look of surprise, he smiles back. He puts the controller in his pocket, pulls me to my feet, then lifts me into his arms.

"Think you're giggling so much you might need some help," he offers, as we move towards my room.

He pauses at the door, allowing me to open it. I'm sure he could have done it for himself, and can only think it's his way of making sure he's invited inside.

What follows is soft and gentle and warm, and when it's over, I drift off into a sleep so deep it hardly seems real. It's so deep that I'm shocked when Spike wakens me later to tell me that Wesley's on his way over and Willow has already called from her cab.

Lucy's up and about when I emerge from my room, and it looks like she managed some rest too. It's a complete contrast to the way Wes looks when he arrives. He certainly doesn't look like he slept, and I remember my own complete loss of consciousness with a stab of guilt. He has a day's worth of stubble and bags under his eyes, and if his hair's seen a comb lately, I'd be surprised. Despite his appearance, though, he seems remarkably lucid and businesslike. By mutual agreement, we hold off on explanations until Willow arrives, and when she does, Clinton is right behind her.

We start with a retelling of our adventures with the Carnolans so far, with explanations from Lucy where necessary, despite Wes' obvious impatience to get on with the rather important matter of Gina. And, in due course, we get there, and Willow says the appropriate things, and strokes Wes' arm in what she means to be a comforting way. Spike then takes up the story, describing their failed attempt at finding a route to Lilah, and when he's done, it's my turn.

Wes' expression is incredulous, but Spike holds up the controller as proof. Right about then, the whole business of only having a single speaker at any one time disintegrates, and we're left with multiple concurrent conversations. Lucy and Clinton examine the controller while Spike seems reluctant to actually let go of it. Willow starts describing to Wes how she'd go about looking for Gina, and I get up and get some paper. I sketch the symbols which I remember from Lilah's arms, and push the finished article towards Wes.

"This is how she said Gina was hidden," I tell him. "Lilah had them on her skin, but I don't know if it needs to be on the individual or whether something bigger – an apartment or office – could be hidden in the same way."

Willow's shaking her head, but Wes jumps up and goes to where he left his laptop when he arrived. He quickly boots it up and checks some files. A short while later, he closes the lid of the computer and picks up his phone.

"What're you doing?" I ask. He's looking frankly scary right now. He just shakes his head as he finishes punching a number and waits for a reply.

"Fred?"

"I need a favour. Can you still get me into the building?"

"Look, it's important. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't. It's Gina – she's missing, and I think Lilah's responsible."

"Is she? You're sure he said those words? Ok, but this is what I need. I need access to the computer system, maybe some of the texts that used to be in my office. Can you arrange that?"

"Thanks, Fred. If I could do this without involving you, I would, you know that. Fine, see you soon. I'll call again when I'm outside."

"You're not going in there?" I demand.

"It's the only way I'm going to find out how these symbols work."

"But you can't remove them if they're what's protecting her."

"Maybe, but maybe I can replace them with something else. I won't know until I can do the research."

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not. I'll be quicker on my own, and it'll help me not to get sidetracked. If Angel spots me, I can probably cover myself. If he sees you, we're going to get into discussing things I just don't have time for."

And he's right. If Angel sees me, the best we can hope for is another argument about why I can't possibly love Spike.

"Ok," I agree reluctantly.

"She had some more news," he adds.

"Oh?"

"Yes. She said that there's been turmoil there lately. It seems Lilah disappeared, and they've been looking for her, but then suddenly, all efforts were stopped. But there's no sign that she's reappeared, in fact, the best information Angel has managed to get is that she's completely gone, that there's nothing left."

"Sounds like Lilah might have been telling the truth," I comment, and I see hope flaring in his eyes.

"It's possible, but I'd prefer to get corroboration. His eyes narrow then, and I know he's thought of something, but instead of explaining, he turns to leave. Before he gets to the door, Willow's putting a restraining hand on his arm.

"If you're going into the lion's den, then you should at least wait until I've done some mojo to make you a bit less obvious."

Wes looks to be about to go anyway, so I grab his other arm before asking Willow to explain.

"I've got a spell in mind that should work," she offers.

"Why not just find out about the symbols and use that?" Spike asks from behind me.

"Well first, I don't know anything about them, so I don't know if they'll help anyway. And if they hide you completely, it's not going to be very helpful."

"Why?" I ask.

"Just think about it. If you and the rest of us suddenly vanish off the radar altogether, aren't the Senior Partners going to realise something's going on? Maybe start searching like it sounds they were doing for Lilah?"

"I suppose so," I admit. "So, what about this spell?"

"Well, it's something I've been working on. I started with a basic confusion spell, and worked on the entropy factor a bit. Then I added it to a very weak invisibility charm, and the result is something that'll make what we're doing look confused, as if there's no discernible pattern. They may think we're incompetent, but they won't know what we're up to."

"I'll take your word for that," I offer. Clinton, on the other hand looks totally fascinated, and I suspect Willow's going to have to give him a more detailed explanation later.

"How long will this take?" Wes is demanding.

"A few minutes," Willow says. "I brought what I'd need with me, and let me tell you, you owe me for having to pack some of those ingredients among my underwear. I can be set up soon."

She leaves to get the things, and I persuade Wes to sit down.

When she returns, she starts to arrange the contents of various packages, mixing and pouring while she explains a bit more.

"What I'm going to do is cover all of us, and this apartment. That means that what happens here will be pretty much totally protected, unless someone other than us is here. Once you're outside, it'll still have some potency, but the fact that you're mixing with others will dilute its effect, since there'll only be the normal sort of chaos in their actions, and therefore some of the patterns in yours will become apparent."

"Clinton is very interested to find out more about your spell, Miss Rosenberg," Lucy says.

Willow looks startled, used, I suppose, to my usual attitude of not wanting all the details.

Lucy goes on to explain why she's speaking for Clinton. Willow nods, and at Lucy's mention of the word 'magic' her eyes seem to widen as she realises there's a whole branch of the subject about which she knows nothing.

"Buffy," she says, pulling herself out of her thoughts. "I need something I can burn some stuff in. Something flame-proof."

I nod and go into the kitchen to pick up a grill pan. It's metal, and fairly large, and I offer it to her.

"That'll be fine," she agrees.

"Just remember, I had to pay a small fortune in a security deposit for this place. If it gets damaged …"

"No, no damage," Willow swiftly reassures, but I don't feel much better.

One by one, she places the ingredients into the dish, then she sets fire to the whole thing, chanting quietly as she does so. The flame's small at first, eventually rising to a noticeable fire, but to my relief, it remains contained within the dish. What doesn't remain contained is the smoke which rises in a cloud, bluish and distinctly putrid.

"Open the doors," she shouts, and Spike does that while I make a bolt for the windows.

"No, no windows, not yet," she stops me. "We need the smoke to infiltrate the whole apartment before we let it escape."

I give up and try to hold my breath. She notices.

"And no holding your breath either. It's got to get right inside you to have any effect. I've been working on the smell, I even added a good dose of lavender to this batch, but it looks like I need to try something else."

Gradually, the smoke dissipates, and after several moments, Willow gives the ok to open the windows. I do so, running from room to room, opening windows normally shut against the heat. When I get back, Wes is on his feet again, and ready to go.

"How long will you be?"

"Not long, if I can find what I need. I've got my cell phone with me, although I'll switch it off before I go in. I'll call you as soon as I'm clear, ok?"

I give him a hug, and he turns to leave. Without his presence, I turn my attention to the others. They're examining the controller.

"Is it Carnolan?" I ask.

"Yes," Lucy replies. "It's ancient, and something we no longer have the ability to make, although we understand part of the technique. A find like this will keep our experts busy for a long time."

"Forget it," Spike answers. "I'm not letting the bloody thing out of my sight."

"He's right," I agree. "You can't ask him to let you have it when it can be used to control him. We were going to destroy it."

Willow gasps at that, and I know she's shocked that we could even consider destroying something so powerful. Clinton's reaction, although silent, is similar, and I feel a wave of panic emanating from him, and there's a pause during which I assume he and Lucy are 'talking'.

"Clinton would not advise its destruction," she says after a moment. "We have no idea of the consequences of such an action. But, it should be possible to de-tune it."

"What do you mean?"

"The controller was tuned to the amulet, linking them. Since Spike wore the amulet, the controller is now linked to the essence of the amulet, and that is part of Spike. If we can de-tune it, we can render it powerless as far as Spike is concerned."

"And what happens if someone comes along and tunes it back up again?" Spike demands.

Clinton shakes his head, and then I hear that beautiful voice in my head. Judging by the expression on Spike's face, he can hear it too. I glance at Willow too, and her face is one of rapt attention.

"In order to tune the amulet and the controller, they had to be made together, cast from the same sheet of material, sung into life by the same voice. Tuning them again would be impossible."

"You sure?" Spike obviously isn't convinced.

"Certain," Clinton replies. "But I don't know how to convince you."

"Can you operate it?" I ask. "I mean, how do we know it's the real thing?"

"Clinton is certain," Lucy replies. "He says it resonates exactly as Spike does."

"What do you mean resonate? I can't say I want to spend my life being a bloody tuning fork."

"If we can de-tune it, you won't be linked to a controller any more, but the amulet will effectively always be a part of you. There's nothing we can do about that."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, it means that all more adept Carnolans will recognise you, if not as Carnolan, then as something akin to them. Otherwise, it should have no effect at all."

That seems to pacify Spike a bit.

"So what do you need to do to de-tune it?" he asks.

"He needs to sing for it, but he's warning me that it won't be a pleasant sound. Ideally, we should go back to the enclave to do it, or failing that, there is a safe house here in LA which has appropriate facilities."

"I'm still not letting it out of my sight," Spike insists. "I had a chip in my head for years, keeping me on a leash. Then Lilah's been pulling my strings since I got back. I'm not letting it happen again."

"If you're in the room when it happens, you'll most likely be deafened. You may be allowed to remain in an adjacent room, beyond the sound-proofing, but you cannot be shown the location of the safe house."

"Let me see the set up and I'll tell you if it's acceptable."

Lucy nods at this, and I'm relieved she's not going to be awkward just for the sake of it.

Spike takes the controller and returns it to his pocket. I glance at my watch, trying to estimate when I should start really worrying about Wes. The sound of my phone ringing startles me. I get up to answer it, conscious of the fact that all eyes are on me.

The voice is instantly recognisable.

"Buffy," Angel says.

"Angel."

"I'm glad you're back. I hear that you failed to perform Lilah's task. Do you need help? I know Lilah disappeared, and the Senior Partners seem to believe she's not coming back. I've even got a new liaison, and they wouldn't have done that if they were expecting her back."

"No, Angel, I don't need help. Everything's going according to plan."

"But …"

"Look, Angel, really, I can't think of anything … no, wait. There is something. I'd be really interested in knowing exactly what happened to Lilah. If you can find out, of course."

"I'll do my best," he promises. "But Buffy, what about Spike? I know Lilah was using the controller on him, if he's hurt anyone …"

"The only person he hurt was himself. Now, if you can help with the information on Lilah, that'd be great. And, if I can think of anything else you can do, I'll be in touch, but for now, that's it."

"I'll always be here for you, Buffy, you know that."

I know he means that, I really do, but the support he's offering isn't anything I'm likely to need.

"I know, Angel. Look, I need to go."

We say goodbye then, and my eyes stray to Spike's face to see how he's taken the conversation. His expression is strangely devoid of emotion, and I'm worried about that. I want desperately to take him off somewhere and make sure he understands, but I see him shrugging and then he smiles at me, and I know he's ok for the moment.

Willow has turned to Clinton now, and by the look on her face, he's talking to her. She starts to explain more of the theory of the spell she used, and she's more animated than I've seen in a long while. Now, if it wasn't for Kennedy, and if Willow wasn't gay now, I'd be seriously worried.

Lucy gets up and leaves them, approaching me and asking if I'd mind if she cooked something. I explain that someone offering to cook for me is definitely of the good, and I take her into the kitchen. Obviously, there's not much in the way of fresh food, but she seems to find enough in the freezer and cupboards to do something, and I leave her to it. I glance into the living room, and Willow and Clinton are still busy, but there's no sign of Spike. I go into my bedroom and he's there, lying on the unmade bed.

"Had to escape, did you?" I ask.

"Well, there's only so much of Willow's excitement a bloke can cope with."

I smile, and lean down to kiss him.

"You ok about the call from Angel?" I ask.

"Probably never be ok with the idea of you and Angel doing anything, but I can hardly blame you for answering the phone."

"Lucy's cooking," I offer. "Not sure what it'll turn out like, but it should be better than if I cooked it."

"Should probably get some food in," he suggests. "Looks like this apartment's going to be Slayer central for a while."

"Yeah," I agree. "When Wes gets here?"

"Assuming we're not too busy with whatever information he brings back."

I lie down beside him, snuggling close. I let out a sigh at just how good it feels to be here with him. Despite everything else that's going on, this bit is just perfect.


	30. Chapter 30 Comfort in More than One Gui...

Chapter 30 – Comfort in More than One Guise 

When Lucy calls us to eat, there's still been no sign of Wes. The meal's good – pasta and a sauce made with tomatoes, some veggies and an unusual seasoning I don't quite recognise. Engrossed in eating, we don't talk. My mind is on Wes, and Willow seems distracted in the way she always gets when she's trying to solve a problem. Clinton left again, apparently to set up the safe house for the detuning, which he's planning on for tomorrow at the latest.

I jump when my phone rings, and pick it up from the work top where I'd left it.

"Buffy?" Wes' voice provides an immediate drop in the tension I'd been feeling.

"Yes. You ok?"

"I'm out, but … it doesn't look good. I'll tell you more when I get there."

I pass on that news, and mention of Wes seems to remind Lucy of something.

"If it's possible, I'd like to sit down with you and Wes later. I've gone through the contract you agreed with the Senior Partners, and I'd really like to ensure that your memories and the written version tally as they should."

"Have you found anything?" I ask, desperate for some good news.

"There's something, but it really depends on the detail you experienced. The paper contract may have legal standing, but I don't think they're going to take you to court over any breach. It's the mystical version that's important. If there's a hole in it …"

I nod. Yes, we desperately need a hole in that contract. If there's any way I can get out of destroying Lucy and the others, I'd be happier. I mean, if I had a reason to do it, I'd be there in a flash. One slip into forcing women to join them, or a change in their policy on eating their mothers' flesh, and they'll be on my black list. Right now, though? I'd feel as good about destroying them as I'd have felt about killing Clem, or maybe worse. I mean, there was the whole kitten poker thing, and I'd bet they weren't just currency for him.

When we finish eating, I chase Lucy out of the kitchen, and start to clean up, pleased to note that Spike joins me. You'd think that since eating solid food is a bit of a novelty to him, he'd be a bit lost in a kitchen, but he isn't. I mean, I know he can use a microwave to heat blood, or make popcorn, but he seems quite comfortable with the whole thing.

We're just finishing up when Wes gets back, and we all reconvene in the living room. Wes is looking even more exhausted than before, and there's something else. His eyes have lost that glint of determination they had before, and I can feel my heart breaking just to see it.

We take our seats, and this time, I ensure that I'm on the sofa beside Wes. I just get the feeling he's going to need some contact, and I'm the closest friend he's got here. If there's one thing I know about Wes, it's that he's really not into physical contact beyond a handshake with people he doesn't know well.

"So, any problems?"

"Not with getting in or out, no. Fred's the sort of person everyone likes, and she seems so innocent that no one even considers that she might be up to something. I found what I needed to about those symbols. They're powerful, extremely powerful. They'll hide someone or something from just about any sort of surveillance. I mean, even face to face, people who see someone with those symbols won't even notice them. I suspect the effect will diminish if you already know the person concerned, especially if they draw attention to themselves by talking to you, for example. That explains why you, Buffy, were able to see Lilah, and if Gina is protected by the same symbols, those of us who know her would be able to see her if she were here. But strangers just wouldn't notice her, and she would be invisible to electronic surveillance, cameras and so forth. That puts paid to my next option, which was to call in some favours around town and get some people checking out CCTV tapes around the area pinpointed by Clinton's spell."

"But, isn't there a way of removing them?" Willow asks. "Surely, there must be some way of erasing the symbols?"

"Oh, there is." Wesley's smile is tight, and full of irony.

"Well," I say, trying to hurry him along.

"Well," he answers, looking straight at me. "Erasure of the symbols is pretty simple. It needs some demon blood, but the actual spell is simple enough."

"So, what's the catch?" I ask, getting irritated, despite my attempts to keep calm.

"Well, it's the old Catch-22, isn't it? To erase the symbols, I need to know exactly where she is. And while she's hidden by the symbols, the only way I'm going to find her is by bumping into her by sheer luck."

There's silence for a moment, while we let that soak in. Desperate to find something that'll console Wes in any way, I remind him of what Lilah said.

"But, it looks like she's safe for now. That's what Lilah said, and so far, it looks like she was telling the truth."

"Safe," he mutters, half under his breath. It's so quiet that I'm shocked by the volume of the next bit. "She might be safe, but if she's frightened, for herself or for the baby, then it's not bloody good enough. And I'd like to know how she's supposed to be anything other than scared witless. I mean, she lost so much before; there was a time when she thought she'd lose her mind. If anything happens to her because of this …"

He stops then, and I know he's vowing to hurt whoever's responsible. Except, as far as we know, the person who's responsible has put herself beyond pain.

I hold out my arms to him, and he looks at them, as if unsure what to do. I don't know who initiates the move, but the next thing I know, Spike, Willow and Lucy are all leaving the room. Once the witnesses are gone, Wes' inhibitions seem to fall, and he collapses into my arms and sobs. I hold him close, stroking his hair, saying those inanities that always seem so natural when you're trying to give comfort, whether it's to a small child or a grown man.

After several moments, he stills, and I feel him taking some deep breaths. He sits up, and immediately apologises. Before he can get more than a couple of words out, I hold up a hand to stop him.

"No apologies. Sometimes, you just need to vent a bit. I understand that."

He nods, and stands, saying, "Maybe I should go home for a bit. I'm feeling rather … rather …"

At that point, he sways alarmingly, and manages to fall back into the chair.

"Wes," I say. "Wes, you're exhausted. And you're not going home. Look, come with me, you can lie on my bed for a while, and have some sleep. When you've done that, then you can have a shower, and I'll see if Spike can lend you some clean clothes, or better still, I'll get Spike to run over to your place and get you a change."

He's about to argue, but then he seems to realise that he's in no fit state to drive anywhere. He nods, and stands again, steadying himself on the back of the sofa.

He manages the walk to my bedroom without incident, while I hover behind, just in case. I'm relieved to note that Spike isn't there when I open the door, so I just pull the drapes, then leave Wes who's already sprawled out on the bed, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if he was already asleep.

I find the others in Willow's room, where she's holding court over her laptop. She's got it connected to the internet via her cell phone, and she's checking out some further leads on those symbols. By the look on her face, though, she's not finding anything new.

Spike approaches as I go in, saying quietly, "How's the Watcher?"

"Exhausted. But I think he's asleep for now. Was it your idea to leave us?"

"Well, yeah. I know how a bloke like that feels about showing what he'd consider to be weakness."

"Thanks, I think he'll feel better after some sleep."

"You sure he's asleep?" Willow pipes up. "'Cos, you know, if he can't, maybe I could help."

"I'm sure, Willow. Worried or not, there just comes a point when your body gives out on you, and I think he's reached that."

I pause then, and I know we're all listening for any sign that Wes is moving around.

"So, what've you got?" I ask, to break the silence.

"Nothing really," Willow admits. "I can't even find a reference to those symbols like Wes did. I've checked all the usual sources of old scripts and languages, but I can't see anything that matches exactly."

"So, Lucy, is there any point in you and I looking at this contract business, or would it be better to wait for Wes?"

"Well, given what I understand to be his background, his Watcher training for example, should have given him an ability with details, so I'd prefer to wait until morning. Besides, even though I slept for a while this afternoon, I'm pretty tired."

"Fine," I reply. I turn to Spike. "Feel like a quick patrol? Hit the streets and see if there's anything looking to snack on the locals?"

As I knew they would, Spike's eyes light up at the possibility. Despite our earlier activity, he's still wound tighter than he can find comfortable.

"What about our hostage situation?" he asks.

"Well, if they can see what's going on, they'll know Willow's here, and I'm sure they know she's pretty powerful, so they can assume she's on hostage-sitting duty."

"And the Watcher?" he asks.

"Will," I turn to face her. "You can keep an ear out for Wes, can't you? And you can let us know if there's a problem."

"Sure," she agrees. "There're a couple of other sites I want to check, so I'm not going to bed for a while."

I do a quick survey of what I'm wearing. Not the best choice for a patrol, but I've known worse. The prospect of going into the room to change is not one I'm going to entertain, though, so I slip my arm through Spike's, pick up my cell phone, and we're out of there.

"We should hit the store before we get back," Spike suggests as we get to the door.

"Yeah, and I offered to get Wes a change of clothes," I add, turning back to the living room. As expected, there I quickly spot Wes' phone and keys where he dropped them as he came in.

We get to the area I had in mind, and I close my eyes, trying to sense anything less than wholesome. The tingle seems to be coming from further along the road, and I start to pull Spike in that direction, only to find that he's already moving in the right direction.

We hear a scream, and follow it into an alleyway. Just why do so many cities have alleys like this? They're magnets for all sorts of evil, of both the human and demon variety. Spike's longer legs ensure that he's ahead and, not surprisingly, he's not waiting. I hear some grunting, which I just about recognise as Fyarl, even if I don't have a clue what it means. Now, a Fyarl demon's trouble. They're just too big and strong to ever take beating them for granted. Not the brightest perhaps, but when you're built like a tank, sometimes you don't need to be. With that in mind, I slow, walking as quietly as I can, and peer into the distance to take in the situation.

The Fyarl's even bigger than most, and the reason things haven't degenerated yet is apparent when I see that one of his huge scaly arms is around a girl's neck. There's something behind them too – I can see a shoe which I assume to be on a foot, but it's lying still, and I've got no way of knowing whether the owner's alive or dead.

I take a look around, and spot a fire-escape above the Fyarl. If only I can find a way to get there, I can take him by surprise. I spot the route quickly. Unfortunately, that route involves an overfull dumpster, and I take another glance at my clothes. Definitely not what I'd choose to go climbing about in one of those, not that I'd ever choose to go climbing about in a dumpster.

I move into the alley, keeping to the darkest shadows, and watch the stand off for a moment. I know that Spike knows what I'm doing, because he's moved so as to take the Fyarl's attention away from me. I climb into the dumpster, and from the top of the trash, which fortunately, seems to be of a dry and comparatively unsmelly variety, I jump to the ramp above, grabbing onto the edge, and haul myself up and over the railing. Again, Spike helps out, as the level of incomprehensible growling increases to cover any noise. I creep along the walkway until I'm right over the Fyarl. I pause then, taking in the details from this angle. I check through my pockets, ignoring the stakes and finding a small silver knife. I make sure it's handy, then choose the sharpest stake I've got. It's not going to do any serious harm to the demon, but for now, all I want is for him to let the girl go.

Stake in hand, I jump, lunging towards his arm with my stake as I fall. Between my momentum and my strength, the stake sinks in through his scaly hide without difficulty, and he instinctively moves his arm, releasing the girl in the process. Fortunately, she's still with it enough to scramble away as soon as she can, running to cower behind Spike.

"Thanks, Love," Spike says once I'm on the ground and ready to get down to the main business. "Stupid nancy-boy didn't want to do without the hostage, even though I've been telling him it takes all the fun out of it. But then, he knew there was a Slayer coming, so maybe it's understandable."

Big and strong as he is, the Fyarl really doesn't stand a chance against Spike and me. It might be a while since we patrolled together, but you wouldn't know it the way we fight. Each of us knows what the other intends, and before long, Spike's wrenching his head, breaking his neck and ensuring the demon's not able to fight back.

"Now all we need is some silver," he says, stepping back and patting pockets he must know don't have anything suitable. I pick the knife out of my pocket, and take its cover off. I hand it to him, knowing he needs to do this, while I go to check on the girl. She's crouched next to the owner of the shoe, and it's now obvious it's a young man.

"Are you hurt?" I ask.

She looks at me, as if unsure for a moment, then shakes her head.

"But Bob – he's … he's…"

"Alive," I finish, checking for a pulse. "What happened to him?"

"The … thing. It wanted me, and Bob tried to get between us. He just batted him away with one arm."

"I'll call an ambulance," I offer.

"No, I … already did. While you were fighting. And the cops. Should be here soon."

"You be ok till they get here?"

She looks puzzled. "Why? You're not going?"

"Yeah. Explanations could take a while. And you can tell them what happened."

"How do I explain? I don't even know what happened." She pauses then, and looks over to the now dead body of the Fyarl. "What was that anyway?" she asks.

"Do you really want to know?" I ask, because, surprisingly often, people don't.

Spike's waiting. I join him, and we walk out of the alley together. Once out on the sidewalk, we wait, pretending to read through a menu outside a restaurant close by, until we hear the sirens, then we leave. Quickly, but trying not to look like we're in a hurry. The adrenalin from the fight is working its usual course, and I know Spike feels the same. I daren't touch him as we walk, because I know I won't be able to let go.

"Do we really need to stop off?" he asks, and I want to tell him we don't. But I promised Wes, and if we don't get some food, there're going to be several unhappy people in the apartment in the morning.

We head to Wes' place, and I open the door then go and pick out some clothes for him while Spike paces in the hallway. Then, we go to the market, picking up supplies in the most haphazard manner I've ever done. Concentrating on something as mundane as food is just really hard when all I want to do is get somewhere private. You'd think having other things to do would clear my mind, allowing me to concentrate on something other than my baser instincts, but when the cause of those instincts is right beside you all the time, believe me, it doesn't help at all.

The journey home is done as fast as we can, and we carry the groceries through the living room into the kitchen. It's then we notice the lack of sofa, and I spot a note from Willow telling us to use her room, since she's taken the sofa into Lucy's room. In all my hormone-driven haste, I'd forgotten about the small matter of Wes being in our bed. We dump the groceries in the kitchen, and Spike's arms are around me, pulling me towards the bedroom, but I stop him, going back to put some things in the fridge, before yielding to his demands.

Within five minutes of getting back to the apartment, Spike closes the bedroom door behind us, and stalks towards where I'm already lying on the bed.


	31. Chapter 31 Discord

Chapter 31 - Discord 

At least it looks like Wes got enough sleep last night. He's no longer got the dark shadows under his eyes, but he's still got that haunted look which I know he won't lose until he gets Gina back safe.

I, on the other hand, seem to be functioning remarkably well on too little sleep. I feel more alive than I've felt in a long time, and with one glance at Spike, I know he's feeling the same. There's nothing like a fight followed by some rather more intimate physical activity to give you a real feeling that everything's right in the world. I catch Willow watching me watching Spike, and I can hear a flash back of Dawn's teenage voice complaining about potential trauma. The combination makes me smile.

Lucy's in her bedroom, apparently having some sort of telepathic conference with someone about the contract, and aside from when she cooked some breakfast, I haven't seen her so far this morning. Wes ate something, then he sat down at his laptop, and hasn't moved since. Spike's watching TV, but I'm not sure he's so much watching it as using it to make himself sort of invisible. No one, well, except me, seems to be paying him any attention, and I get the feeling that he's watching the rest of us rather more than the sit com repeat that's on.

Willow announces that she's going to go and clear up the kitchen, and I follow her in. I haven't had a chance to talk to her since she got here, and even before then, I was kind of out of touch.

Once there, she immediately closes the door behind us, and turns to me.

"You and Spike, eh?"

"Yeah."

"So, dish the dirt. How's it going? Good as you remember or …"

"Better than I remember. All the good bits, and none of the bad. Well, different bad bits, I mean with Gina and the controller, but not bad bits about us, if you know what I mean."

"He's doing better than I expected with the whole 'being human' thing," she comments. "I mean, he's one vampire I really didn't think would adapt well."

"He wasn't happy at first. Went out drinking and nearly ended up as a snack for a couple of vamps. He felt useless, and didn't think I could love him as just your basic human. It was hard enough to make him realise that I meant it when I said it back in Sunnydale - that I loved him. Take away all that vamp strength and stamina, and he just couldn't believe. Somewhere, in his past, he got the notion that William was useless, and that's stayed with him all this time. I finally got through to him while we were away."

"But he's not all that weak," Willow says, looking confused. "I mean, he told me about that Fyarl last night, and it sounds like he held his own. Or was that just a bit of bravado?"

"No, not bravado. He's not just human. He can match me for strength, and …"

"And stamina too if my ears weren't playing tricks on me last night."

"Will, oh, I'm sorry. We were being quiet."

"I know, it's just, quiet house, stranger in the room, I didn't sleep so well, and, you know, some noises you just recognise."

I know I'm distinctly pink, and I also know Willow's enjoying my embarrassment. I quickly get us back onto the other, less embarrassing subject.

"So, Will, why is he so strong? I mean, I don't think Lilah expected that. I think she just expected him to be human."

"I don't know. Is there anything else? Is he just strong? He doesn't have a demon face or anything, or …"

"No, no demon face," I answer smiling. "But, …"

"But?"

"But, last night, he sensed that Fyarl before I did. It's like he's got my Slayer senses too."

She stares at me as I say that. Staring that means she's putting something together.

"Buffy, remember when I said before that you and Spike had been linked by the amulet?"

"Yeah, but …"

"Look, that's really old magic. Someone chooses a Champion, and that choice forges a link between them. It means that, karmically, they're joined, that the result for one will be the result for the other."

"Yeah, but …"

"Well, think about this. That spell I did, giving the power of the Slayer to all the Potentials, it must have affected you too."

"But I wasn't a Potential."

"Well, actually, you were. The fact that you'd been activated didn't take away your Potentialness - it just sort of added onto it. So, when I distributed all that Slayer power around, you got a share of it like everyone else. But it didn't make any difference to you, because you already had it. But, what if Spike got some of it too? What if … he actually became a Slayer for that short time before he dusted? It brings a whole new meaning to the term 'Vampire Slayer'."

Spike? A Slayer? It actually makes a weird sort of sense, and I find myself accepting what she's saying.

"Can we prove it?"

"Yeah, we should be able to. The Council of Watchers has been rounding up Slayers, so they've got to have some way of recognising them."

"But how come they missed him so far?"

"Buffy, there're hundreds of Slayers recognised so far. Some of them don't want anything to do with the Council, and some want to be trained. In LA alone there must be quite a few girls. I'm not really surprised that they missed Spike. Especially if they're looking for girls. I mean, he doesn't really fit the bill, now does he? And anyway, they'd have to have done a sweep of LA since he got back."

No, Spike certainly doesn't fit the bill. The idea of sleeping with another Slayer never appealed to me at all. As I think that, I think about Kennedy, and so I ask Willow about how she is.

"Oh, you know, she's gone off to Europe. Her parents offered to give us a holiday, going everywhere, doing all those things I've always wanted to do, but we had to just drop everything and go. And I couldn't. I mean, there's stuff going on in Cleveland too - Slayage things, and she just walked away from it. She didn't even call Giles to let him know. I had to do that, after she'd gone, so he could send a more experienced Slayer to cover for her."

"I'm sorry, Will. Hey, but you don't have to be on call for the Cleveland stuff, do you? Why didn't you go?"

"I … I couldn't. I mean, I said I couldn't, because I thought she'd realise she couldn't, but …"

"But she's not used to being told she's wrong."

"Exactly. She feels like she should only do the things she feels like doing. I think it's surprising that she actually stayed with the programme as long as she did."

"Willow," I say as a thought occurs to me. "You didn't turn down a tour round Europe because of me, did you?"

"Er, no. Well, sort of, because I knew you'd need me, but it was more than that. At the start, I didn't think she'd go if I pointed out all the things we were needed for here. But then it didn't make any difference, and there were other things, things that maybe I can do from here, but even with the net, it'd be hard to do from London or Paris. And, well, when I realised Kennedy wasn't going to change her mind, I wasn't as upset as I thought I'd be. It's just how she is."

I just smile, afraid that whatever I say will sound harsh.

Willow smiles back, and continues. "Even being the Slayer. She was so sure she'd be called, even when that meant someone had to die. But I don't think she thought it through. Sure, an apocalypse, maybe even a few, all the excitement, but there's all the day-to-day vamp killing, and she was getting bored. I'm just surprised she stayed at it as long as she did."

"I know, from personal experience, that having that sort of responsibility for seven years is a big deal. I can't really blame her for wanting out."

"I know, and if she'd just wanted out, I could have coped. It was the just going, and not arranging for cover." She shrugs.

"Anyway, I enjoyed working with you up in Tacoma, I really did. And then there was a chance to help some more, and I wasn't going to turn that down. Everything Kennedy's needed me for lately has been real routine, but you've given me the chance to find out about a whole new type of magic, and it's not dark and dangerous, or at least, no more dangerous than any magic, and it's exciting and …"

"And there's a tall, dark and mysterious man who can teach you all about it."

She blushes at that.

"But I'm …"

"Gay now. I know; I've heard the speech. But there was Oz, and it's perfectly possible to have no particular preference, and if you find him attractive, then there's nothing wrong with that."

"But what about Kennedy?"

"What about Kennedy? I'm not suggesting you jump into bed with Clinton, but there's no reason why you shouldn't get to know him a bit better, and then it's up to you to decide whether what you've got with Kennedy is long haul and worth working at, or if it's just been a good time on the way to something better."

"Not that I'm admitting to any attraction, mind you, but you're right. I mean, there's no harm in looking and getting to know someone, and it doesn't matter whether they're male of female, or even human or … not quite human."

"As I've proved, on er, two occasions."

"And is this one long haul?"

"You know, Willow, I really think it is. At least, I hope so, because it is for me. I'm just scared Spike will realise I'm nothing special once he's found his feet again."

"Have you seen him looking at you? Not going to happen. I mean, if there's one thing about Spike, it's that he sticks around. He doesn't know the meaning of falling out of love."

And no sooner are those words out of Willow's mouth, than Spike appears at the door.

"If you two are done nattering, there's been a message from Clinton. There'll be a car here in two minutes, to take me, and my jewellery here, for detuning."

"Fine," I reply. "I'll just pick up my purse."

"You're coming?" he looks surprised.

"Well, duh. Course I'm coming. It's important to you, isn't it?"

He smiles at that, but the moment is broken by Willow

"Room for another?" she asks.

"Well, someone needs to stay with Lucy," I say.

"Wes?" Willow suggests, then shakes her head. "No, that wouldn't work. Someone needs to be here for him too, and it wouldn't be fair for that to be a total stranger. I'll stay and keep them both out of trouble."

"Thanks, Will. And I'll see if I can persuade Clinton to come over when the detuning's finished."

I get an elbow in the ribs for that, and Spike just looks mystified.

The car is actually a limo, with tinted glass so dark that no one on the outside can see inside. The odd part is that, once we get going, we can't see out either. A bit less intrusive a ploy than the outward journey, but the effect is the same.

As we drive, I bring up the subject of Willow's theory.

"Remember that Fyarl?"

"Hard to forget something that big and stupid," he answers.

"Well, you knew it was around before I told you."

"Well, didn't know what it was, but I knew there was something unfriendly around."

"How?"

"How what?"

"How did you know?"

He pauses then. "Can't honestly say I know. I just knew, like a prickling at the back of my neck. Sort of like before, when I was a vamp, could always tell if there was another one around, and Slayers, could sense them too."

"You remember, back in Sunnydale, Willow used the scythe to make all the potentials into Slayers?"

"Not likely to forget that either, Love."

"No, I suppose not. Anyway, Willow thinks maybe you got a dose of Slayerness too."

The look he gives me shows his incredulity more clearly than words could.

"Look, Spike. She says the amulet linked us. The fact that it was mine, and I gave it to you as my champion. She says that's old magic – it links the two of us."

"Yeah, well, …"

"So, it shared my Potentialness with you. Even though I was the Slayer, Willow says I was still a Potential underneath. And because of the link, you were too, so when the scythe did its thing, you got to be a Slayer."

"Reckon I've got the wrong bits to be a Slayer. Woman only gig, that one."

"Well, normally, but … Look, apparently the Council can prove it, one way or another. If you want to know for sure."

"Right now, I don't much care about the why. Maybe, when things are straight, we could find out – if it's important to you. Only thing that matters to me is being able to look out for you."

And I kiss him. Well, apart from anything else, it seems to be a good way to pass the time.

When we finally stop, an hour and a half later, we're in an underground garage, with no real idea of where we are.

We take the elevator up from there to another basement level. At least, I assume it's a basement from the lack of windows. I can't help but think it'd be an ideal vamp lair. It looks like a suite of offices, and we're taken into a large waiting room. Clinton meets us there, and takes us through a short corridor into an inner room. Well, when I say room, I'm being generous. It's more of a closet, about eight feet square, and, apart from the door we used, there is no opening. Clinton invites Spike to check out the room, so he can be sure there's no alternative exit. I check too, but it's difficult since all the walls sound strangely dead.

"Soundproofed," Clinton explains in his unique way. "There's a two foot gap between this room and all the surrounding ones, and it's filled with state of the art soundproofing materials. Even so, it'll be noisy in the outer room."

"But you'll be in here?" I ask.

"No. I'll be in the control room, which is off the waiting room. I value my hearing too."

"So, where do we go?" Spike asks.

"Well, you can stay with me, or if you prefer to be more comfortable, there's the waiting room."

"I think we'll stick with you," Spike decides, and I agree that seems to be the most sensible idea. Apart from anything else, Willow's going to want a blow by blow description of the procedure, so I'd better be on hand to see it.

Clinton holds out a hand for the controller. Spike fishes it out of his pocket, and hands it to Clinton who places it on what actually looks rather like an altar in the centre of the room.

"This platform is actually dampened. The vibrations induced by the detuning will be absorbed by the dampening mechanism. The alternative would probably be measurable on a seismograph."

I know there's been talk about being deafened by this procedure, but I'm starting to get the impression of a seriously powerful bit of noise here.

"One thing," I interrupt. "Is it possible for us to check this out? I mean, can I try to use the controller now, and then again after? As a check, I mean."

"Well, yes," Clinton agrees. "And that would be the best evidence I could offer that the detuning has been successful."

"So," I say, picking up the controller again. "That ok with you, Spike?"

"Depends what you're planning," he says, his brows low over his eyes.

"Oh, you'll just have to trust me."

He doesn't look too sure, but agrees anyway. The truth is, I really don't have a clue what to get him to do. I mean, there're a lot of things I could do, but they'd be things he might want to do anyway, so it wouldn't be much of a test. And then it comes to me. He talked about his poetry - the stuff he used to write, but he's never let me hear any of it.

Clinton takes me to the other side of the small room, and puts my hands on the controller. He sings a single note softly, and I feel the controller vibrate in my hand.

"Any voice could activate the controller," he explains. "But for most humans, it would take a while of trial and error to get the pitch right. It's quicker if I just get it started for you."

"Now," his voice continues. "It's in your hands, so you have to shape the command. I want you to concentrate on what you want, either using an idea from your own mind, or sifting through his memories for something from his. Concentrate, it may take a little while at first, but it'll get easier."

I do as he says, concentrating on Spike, mentally pulling away the covers which shroud his memories, and sifting through his memories as a human, homing in on poetry, and seeing the words on paper in his handwriting as he remembers reading them once. I find it at last, the one I'm sure he's least likely to say out loud, and I force him to speak. He tries to avoid it at first, but gives up quickly, and I get a flash of irritation as he starts to speak.

"_My soul is wrapped in harsh repose,   
__midnight__ descends in raven-coloured clothes,   
but soft...behold!   
A sunlight beam   
cutting a swath of glimmering gleam.   
My heart expands,   
'tis grown a bulge in it,   
inspired by your beauty...   
effulgent."_

I had planned to stop him after a line or two, but I feel compelled to keep him talking to the end of the verse. Spike relaxes, and I take the controller and place it on the altar.

"Do it, please, Clinton," I say, approaching Spike, suddenly unsure of my welcome. He doesn't look too happy, but he opens his arms to me anyway.

"I'm sorry," I apologise. "It seemed like a good idea, but once I was in there, I knew I shouldn't be in your mind, shouldn't be doing it. Your memories are your own unless you choose to share them."

And it's true, I feel dirty, like I've been reading someone's diary.

"It's ok, Pet. It was a good idea. And you could hardly have asked me to kiss you or something, 'cos that's not something I need any hints about." And he proves that by giving me a quick kiss on the lips.

"It's more than the words, though, I didn't just see the poetry, I saw what you felt then, that you loved her, Cecily, and I shouldn't have been in there."

"No big deal, Pet. There's a lot worse in there, and I might have told you all about that in time anyway, so no harm done. It sort of makes up for all the snooping I did back when I first loved you."

Clinton's voice in our heads interrupts, and he leads us back into the waiting room, and from there, through another door which leads to a control console in a room overlooking the detuning room. When I say overlooking, I suspect it would be, but the screen in front of us is like a TV, not a window. There are three chairs in the room, and Clinton takes the right hand one, with Spike next to him, and me on the other end. There's a microphone and headphones in front of Clinton, and an array of switches which he proceeds to flip, until he's happy that everything is prepared.

You'll hear a bit of what's going on, but you'll feel even more. It's not a pleasant feeling, but without the excess noise, it should be bearable. I have never attempted to detune something as powerful as this before, simply because such artefacts are all but unknown these days. I suspect that the resonance in you, Spike, will make the procedure rather more uncomfortable. However, I don't believe that being so close will change that at all. Detuning has never been done with a human before, as the amulets always required someone rather more robust. However, once I begin, I will effectively be in a trance and unable to stop. In addition, the door to the control room will be locked and will remain that way until I have completed my task. The procedure should take perhaps ten minutes."

We both nod that we understand.

"I'll begin shortly," Clinton continues. "I just need a moment to gather my thoughts, and then I will sing."

He picks up his headphones, and adjusts them carefully. The silence seems unreal. I can only hear the sound of my own breathing, and beside me, Spike. Again I'm struck by the incongruity of him breathing. Not that he never did - he always did breathe a lot for someone who didn't need to. In the early days, I thought it was just because he always talked so much, but it was more than that. He did it when there was no reason, and when he probably wasn't even conscious of what he was doing, like when he slept.

And then it starts. It's a whisper of a sound, pure in a way a human voice could never be. It's achingly beautiful, and it gradually gets louder. And then I hear the first sound of the battle. The controller is singing back, audible despite the soundproofing, but the note is slightly different, and, even though the volume is low, it's gratingly unpleasant.

The volume increases, but worse than that, there's a vibration that I feel rather than hear, and I start to panic because I instinctively know that there's more and worse to come. The volume continues to increase, and I feel as if every bone in my body is trying to resonate in time with both notes at once, and the effect seems to be trying to shatter me from the inside out.

I reach out to Spike's hand, and I can feel the tremors in his body. I glance at his face, and it's streaked with sweat. Of course, Clinton warned us it would be uncomfortable. Just looking at him, though, uncomfortable just doesn't seem strong enough.

Spike's shaking badly now, and I reach out my arms to him, pulling him close, but he doesn't seem to notice. The shaking's getting worse, and his face is lined with pain. The sound's making my whole body ache, and I know it must be much worse for him. I start to call out to Spike, to tell him it's ok, but I can hardly hear my own voice. Everything's now about those two notes, two vibrations, battling for power over one another, and even when I scream at Clinton to stop, I feel nothing but the battle.

And then, it happens. There's the most awful sound I've ever heard. It's like a scream of such pain that you cannot imagine the cause, and the accompanying vibration is increased tenfold , and then there's just a single note, Clinton's note, and it's reverberating raggedly in the background from the controller, not so pure, but there nonetheless.

Spike collapses into my arms, his breathing uneven, as the sound fades, and stops altogether, I turn to see Clinton standing over us. I yell at him, "What happened? Why?"

He shakes his head, and I hear a mixture of confusion and apology as he communicates in his usual fashion. Together we carry an unconscious Spike out to the waiting room. There are a couple of other Carnolans there as we emerge, and they disappear when they see Spike, returning a moment later with a blanket which they use to cover Spike once we've laid him on a sofa. His face, which had just recently started to get some colour, is paler than I can remember seeing, and his breathing seems even worse than before.

"What happened?" I scream.

Clinton's voice sounds clearly, and I know he's projecting the sound into my mind again.

"We had no way of knowing it would affect him so badly. Obviously, it was going to be painful for him, I explained that. But I didn't expect this level of reaction."

I'm kneeling in front of Spike, stroking his face, trying to let him know I'm here, but he's not responding in any way.

"I've called for assistance," Clinton offers. "There's a medical team on its way."

"From where?"

He doesn't answer, but gets up to leave the room. I check Spike's pulse, but it's going so fast, it can't be real. I check it again, and it's going faster than I can count. I remember, back when Mom was ill, Riley, he had a heart-rate that was too fast, and it was killing him, but this is much faster than that.

I'm scared, so scared for him. What if the trauma is just too much for him? What if his body just can't take it? Surely it would have been better to have lived with the potential of the controller than this? And then I realise, that even if Spike had known this could result, even if he had known it would cost him his life, he would have chosen to take the chance to be free. His whole life, he's been a prisoner. Imprisoned by his own nature and society when he was alive. Then, imprisoned by the demon for over a century. Then, there was the chip, restraining even the demon, then the controller. He's never had the chance to be who he really is in all that time. I may complain about the time when I was the Slayer, the one and only, and it certainly did take away my freedom in many ways. But compared to what Spike's known? It was nothing.

I hear a crash at the door, and some paramedics rush in, and I'm pulled gently away, and taken to sit at the other side of the room. Clinton's there, holding my hand, and I can hear his confusion and apologies in my head, but it doesn't mean anything. I can't follow what they're doing to Spike, I just want him to wake up and be ok.

Everything's a blur then. Somehow, they get Spike loaded onto a gurney, and they're trundling him into the elevator, and Clinton's taking me up a stairway, telling me he'll get me to the hospital, and that I shouldn't worry. I hear the siren as I'm helped into a car. The ambulance is moving away, and all I can do is sit and wait for someone to get me to the hospital.

_Author's Note: The words of the poem are, of course William's, and not mine._


	32. Chapter 32 Talking and Touching

Chapter 32 – Talking and Touching 

The hospital seems small, and it smells as all hospitals smell. Nothing else about it seems to register as I'm led through some doors to a waiting area. Clinton hasn't left my side, and I'm torn between being grateful and wanting to blame him for what happened. In truth, if his shock and sadness at what happened weren't so obvious, blaming him would be much easier.

I can't sit, preferring to pace from one end of the small room to the other, while Clinton is quietly still. He tried to explain this hospital as we drove here, but I don't remember much. Something about the hospital being registered as a private clinic, and being staffed by Carnolans and those who already know about them – I assume because they married into the clan. Certainly, there are a lot of Mediterranean-looking types around, and my Slayer sense is buzzing constantly.

"I can't wait, I need to see him," I tell Clinton not for the first time, heading towards the door.

As with every other time, Clinton reaches the door before I do, barring my way. There's no threat in his posture, although there is some fear.

"Buffy, the doctors here are as good as any anywhere. Think about it. Given the average Carnolan lifespan, you've got doctors who've got more years of experience under their belts than humans can imagine."

"Experience with Carnolans. Spike's human."

"And these doctors trained among humans, with human patients. They keep up to date with human medicine too because they also treat the women who live among us. In fact, one of the doctors in there is human. How would you explain the cause of Spike's illness to anyone else?"

Much the same way as I'd explain the anomalies of treating me, which basically means a lot of avoidance, but I don't say it.

I'm about to argue again, when he adds, "Lucy knows what happened, and she's told Willow. Would it help to have her here?"

"Lucy?" I ask, bemused by the question.

"No, Willow. I can arrange to have her brought here if it will help."

I shake my head, trying to concentrate on answering the question.

"Yes," I say at last. "But make sure Wes knows to stay with Lucy. We've got to keep up the appearance that she's a hostage." Despite years of not having to be 'The Slayer', the thought comes clearly through my fear for Spike.

He nods, then his attention goes off again, and I hear his voice in my head again a moment later.

"She'll be here soon."

I go back to my seat, or at least the chair I've been occupying for short periods since I arrived. I really don't know how long I've been here. It seems like forever, but I know it's probably not that long.

Clinton moves away from the doorway, and I assume it's just because he doesn't think I'm going to try to get out again, but someone comes in a moment later, so maybe it's more than that.

If it wasn't for the scrubs, I wouldn't be able to tell him apart from Clinton, but he approaches me, and I stand, nervously.

"What …?" I manage, before he puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Spike is holding his own," he begins. Ok, not bad news, but not good either.

"Is he conscious? Can I see him?"

"No and yes. He's not conscious, although we have been able to stabilise his heart rate. I have no reason to believe he will not recover, but I admit to being surprised, given his general physical condition, that he's been affected as badly as he has. If you'd like to come with me, I'll take you to him."

We walk along a short corridor and through the last doorway on the right. There's a barrage of machines in the room, bleeping and flashing lights, and there, attached to it all, is Spike. My first thought is that he's shrunk. I go to him, sitting in the only chair in the room, and gather one hand into my own two. What is it about hospital beds? They always seem to make the occupant look impossibly small, but the effect with Spike is more extreme than usual. I know, he's not big. I mean, what, five ten in height, and slight build despite the muscles, but he never seems small to me. Of course, that's from my standpoint, and at five two, most men loom over me, but it's more than that. I think it's got more to do with the way he projects himself. It's the mannerisms, the way he straightens his shoulders and holds himself high. It's the way his presence within a room eclipses everyone else, although that particular effect might be limited to my rather biased perception.

"Hey, Spike," I say, quietly, not caring whether we're alone or surrounded by the non-humans who run this hospital. "Got to say, I'm impressed with the lengths you'll go to avoid risking a recital of some more of your poetry."

The joke sounds weak, even to me, and I sit, silently, unsure what to say now.

"He should be able to hear you," the doctor continues from behind. "And it might be good for him to hear a familiar voice, so talk away. That'll probably be easier if I'm not here, so I'll leave you. There's a cord next to the bed which you can pull if you need help, but the chances are that any change in Spike's condition will be obvious in one or other of the machines we've hooked up, so there'll be someone on their way before you can pull it."

"I'm expecting a friend to come," I say, turning just in time to see his retreating back.

"I know, and we'll make sure Miss Rosenberg is shown straight in when she arrives, if that's what you wish."

"Yes, thanks," I reply, but my attention is already back on the unnaturally still figure on the bed.

I consider hitting him. No, not hard, just a play punch to his shoulder, something to show him how upset I am. Because that's my way. Even now, with all that training I've done, with all that experience in getting other people to talk about what's on their mind, violence is much easier than telling him. Telling him that I love him, and that I can't do this without him. Not any more. Tried it, and I coped for a while, but that's all I was doing. Coping.

Then it occurs to me. There is another way, something else I can do to show him what I find so hard to say in words. I stand, and bend down to plant a kiss on his lips. I survey the various attachments to his body, and carefully move some things aside, making room beside him, and for once, being small is a distinct advantage. Fortunately, most of the wires and so on go off the other side of the bed, and I sit on the bed beside him, one arm over him and supporting me, while the other is free to stroke his face and comb my fingers through his hair. Once, I used pain to communicate with him. But that was when I couldn't admit, even to myself, that he was a man or that I could care about him. Now I know the truth, I can touch him lovingly and I know he'll understand.

Lulled by the contact, grounded by it, I find I'm able to relax, physically at least, and the relief is tremendous. I hadn't realised just how tense I'd been, tightly wound and ready to fight.

Willow comes in a short while later, ushered by someone whose face I don't see. She seems unsure at first, but I gesture to her, and ask her to sit down.

"I think Spike'll find it easier to know I'm here this way," I say by way of explanation. "He's just such a … tactile sort of person."

Willow smiles her understanding, then asks, "What did they say? I only heard that he'd collapsed. What happened?"

I explain about the detuning, and how it made me feel inside, and how much worse it seemed to be for him. She nods as I speak, apparently understanding more than I've told her.

"And now, they've stabilised his heart rate, and I think the doctor's actually puzzled as to why he hasn't come around yet."

"But that's good, isn't it? I mean, there's no reason he shouldn't just wake up, and everything be back to normal. Or as normal as you can have when you're an ex-vampire brought back as possibly the only ever male, human Slayer."

I smile at that, because she's right, even if she's taking the most positive possible angle on things.

I squirm round a bit so I can see Willow better.

"So, anything happen while we've been gone?"

"Look, Buffy," Willow answers. "You don't need to worry about anything else just now. We can …"

"I know you can, Willow. I know there's a lot you and Wes can handle without me. But this is personal. Not only are they responsible for Gina being kidnapped, they've done this to Spike. Now, I really don't know if it's just the Senior Partners, or if it's the whole Carnolan race that's really responsible, but either way, they've pissed me off big time. And someone's going to regret that. So, what's been happening?"

"Well, I don't know the details, but Wes and Lucy have been closeted together since you left. I think Lucy's in contact with someone else, because of something Wes said when I told him I was coming here. Anyway, they've been going over the contract with a fine tooth comb, and I think he's optimistic that they've found something, but he wasn't saying too much."

"Optimistic? You mean there might be a way of me getting out of my contract to destroy the Carnolans?"

"I think that's what he meant. I kinda get the impression that Wes has thrown himself into sorting out every detail so he doesn't have too much time to think about Gina."

"Yeah," I answer, stroking Spike's arm.

"Still nothing more from Lucy about the source of the Senior Partners' power?"

"I did ask, but she wasn't talking. I get the impression she's not going to say until she's pretty sure which way you're going to jump on this. I mean, she's sort of holding the information hostage."

"Yeah, that's the impression I got, and while I understand, it's going to get old pretty fast. Whatever we do, I want to get it done fast, and for that I need information up front."

"So the detuning worked, well, as far as you know," Willow says, changing the subject.

"Clinton seemed to think so, but we didn't get a chance to check it out."

"No, of course, sorry, I …"

"It's ok, Willow. We checked it out before, though. Got the chance to go rummaging around in his mind. I was only looking for some poetry, but afterwards, all I felt was how wrong it was. The thought of Lilah having access to all that …" I shudder involuntarily at the idea.

"Creepy," Willow agrees.

"So, what's next?" I ask, thinking aloud more than actually wanting a reply.

"Well, if you can strike against the Senior Partners and leave the rest of the Carnolans alone, will you do that?"

"I suppose so," I admit. "I really do get the feeling they're just like humans – trying to do their best and that most of them aren't inherently evil. And I'd really like to be able to cause the Senior Partners some serious pain."

"You might have to share that with Wes when it happens. That's a man who really needs to hit someone right now."

"Twitchy?"

"No, not really. More eerily cool, almost cold and calculating. Kind of like an efficient version of the one we met back in Sunnydale. You know, it's all about the mission and nothing else matters, except now I can take him seriously."

I smile at the memories of Wes from then. I was a child, but he actually seemed younger. For all the facts at his disposal, he hadn't actually seen much of life then. Now, it feels like he's caught up and overtaken me because he's got the experience to match the wisdom that was hiding under that tweed.

"You want a coffee?" Willow asks, getting up.

"Yeah, if you can get one," I answer. I don't really want the coffee, but I do need something else to focus on, even if it's only for a few moments. Willow goes off in search of some, and I go back to my thoughts.

And thinking about tweed inevitably makes me think about Giles. For years he was at the centre of my life. More a parent than my father, he understood my life better than my mother did for a long time. But that last year in Sunnydale destroyed something in our relationship that we've never been able to put right. Oh, we made our peace. We didn't part as sworn enemies or anything, if fact, we parted as friends. But he was more than a friend before that, and that 'something extra' that was built on respect was destroyed when he wouldn't trust my judgement about Spike and conspired with Robin Wood to destroy him.

I know every child needs to realise that their parents are human. My dad … well, I found that out earlier than I should have. My mom? I was just getting the idea when she died, so she's always going to be a sort of 'super-mom' to me. The only one I've actually had the full, adult disillusionment about is Giles, and he's not even technically included in the roster. And you know what? It still hurts. Deep down, the fact that he wanted to see Spike gone hurts. If he'd had his way, I'd never have known the joy that's been around these past weeks. Even though we've never had a time when everything's been right, it's been the first time since I was called that I've felt like I've got a hope for a normal life. Not normal the way I used to think of it. I'll never be normal. I've seen too much, and done too many hard things to ever be normal. But some parts of normality, like having a partner in life who really understands me and who'll be there for me whatever happens, I was just starting to think I might get that.

I look towards Spike's face, and it's out of focus. I take my hand from where it's been running up and down his arm and wipe my eyes. I'm not going to shed any tears. There won't be a reason for shedding any tears, and if there is, then I still won't do it until I've destroyed whoever's responsible.

I return my hand to Spike's, squeezing it tight. It just feels so good to be holding it that I can imagine he's squeezing it back. And then, I know I'm not imagining it. He really is squeezing my hand. I look from our joined hands to his face, and his eyelids are fluttering. Mesmerised, I watch for seconds or minutes, but that's all I see, just that slight movement of his eyelids. I'm torn between disappointment and joy, unsure what to make of it.

I hear approaching footsteps, and there's another Carnolan standing behind me, and judging from the uniform, he's a nurse.

"There's been a change in …" he starts, approaching the bed.

"Yes," I agree. "He squeezed my hand, and his eyelids were moving."

The nurse nods and does a quick scan of the equipment, pausing only to glance at the fact that I'm sitting on the bed. He doesn't comment, and I'm not sure whether I'm disappointed that I'm not going to get the chance to argue, or not.

"It could be he's coming out of it," he offers. "But it may still take time."

"But he is coming out of it," I say, looking for confirmation.

"It's possible," he agrees, before leaving the room.

"You hear that, Spike?" I say once we're alone again. "It's possible. And since it's only the impossible that we have to work at, this should be easy. Just, please don't keep me waiting too long."

Willow returns after a while, bearing two large lattes from a coffee shop, and a couple of sandwiches.

"Didn't like the look of what they had here, and someone suggested using the Espresso Pump about a block from here, but there was a line, and then they had some sort of problem with the machine and …"

"It's ok, Willow," I reassure, taking the proffered cup. I sip it, pleased to note it's just the right temperature.

We chat over our coffee, starting with telling her about Spike's squeezing my hand, but then ranging far and wide, and long after the cups have been drained. We haven't chatted this much since we were in high school, and it feels comforting. All the time we talk, I keep touching Spike, stroking his arm or his face, sometimes squeezing his hand again in the hope of getting a response, just letting him know I'm here.

There've been a couple of interruptions, while someone has come in to check on Spike, but generally, we've been left alone. I hear footsteps approaching, and I'm surprised to find that it's a nurse pushing a fold-up cot.

"It's getting late, and I thought maybe you'd like to get some sleep," he suggests.

I glance at my watch, and I'm surprised how late it is. I thank him, then turn to Willow.

"Will, you should go and get some rest too. You haven't stopped since you got here, and you must be tired."

"I'm fine," she argues, but I know better.

"Go. Seriously, I'll be fine. Anyway, I need someone to let me know what's happening with Lucy and Wes, and if we do come up with a plan, and it needs some magic, then I need you in top form."

Naturally, with Willow, it's the argument that I'm going to need her that makes the difference. "Ok, if you're sure," she decides, standing up.

"Is there anything you need before I go?" she asks. "I can do another coffee run if you like, I think they're open late."

"No, I'm fine. More coffee and I'll just be awake all night. Go, sleep, and I promise I'll call if anything changes."

"Make sure you do. I'll come right here."

She hugs me, and I hug her back, feeling closer to her than I've felt in years.

Once she's gone, I set up the cot close to Spike's bed, but it's too low, and I can't touch him. I fold it back up again, and take another look at the bed. I make a couple of minor adjustments to where I've been sitting, and I make (just) enough room for me to curl up. I climb onto the bed, close to Spike, able to feel his closeness along the length of my body, and before I know it, the sense of being at home has relaxed me enough that I sleep.


	33. Chapter 33 A Change

Chapter 33 – A Change

I come awake suddenly, aware that something's out of place without knowing what it is. I lie, frozen, as I remember where I am, and when I've done that, I immediately spot the thing that woke me. I fell asleep curled into a small space beside Spike who was lying on his back looking more dead than alive. I'm still in the same place, but Spike's arm is no longer lying inert by his side. It's draped across his body and stroking my arm softly but in a regular rhythm.

Trying not to break contact, I sit up awkwardly. His thumb's stroking my arm, travelling a short distance before returning to begin again. I tear my eyes away from that to his face. His eyes are still closed, but his eyelids are flickering again.

"Spike?" I ask, moving my other hand to his face, and running my fingertips over it.

The flickering pauses, then begins again in earnest.

"Spike," I say again. "You wake up right now. Do you hear me?"

The flickering stops again, and my heart sinks. Then, without warning, his eyes begin to open, continuing until I can see the familiar blue clearly, and they stay open. He seems to be having problems focussing at first, so I just make sure my face is right in front of his, and smile hopefully.

"Bss bnt," he mumbles. I start to laugh. It might not sound much like it, but I recognise that I've just been called a 'bossy bint'. I hear footsteps behind me, heralding the arrival of some staff, but I don't turn. Instead, I lean down, bringing my lips to his, intending only the slightest touch, but his lips move under mine, and the kiss lasts for slightly longer than I intended. I move away at last when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"If you'll excuse us," the doctor from yesterday says, "we'd like to run some tests. It shouldn't take too long, and then you can come back again."

I'm about to protest, to tell them I'm not about to let him out of my sight ever again, but he continues to talk.

"You may want to call your friends and let them know what's happened. And your friend arranged for breakfast to be delivered from the Espresso Pump this morning for you. It arrived a short while ago, and it's in the waiting room. We weren't going to waken you but since you're awake now anyway …"

Breakfast? I glance at my watch, and sure enough, it's breakfast time. I had no idea I'd managed to sleep all night. And just to make sure there's no mistake, my stomach rumbles loud enough to be heard by someone in the next room.

"You'll let me know as soon as you're finished?" I ask, but I'm not looking at the doctor, only Spike.

"I promise," he answers. Spike's smiling at me, not a big grin, just that little smile he has, and I bend down one more time to kiss him, then get off the bed and walk back down the corridor to the waiting room.

Sure enough, there's a cup of coffee which is still warm, and a bag which, on investigation, contains two doughnuts – one jelly and one with little chocolate bits. There's a phone in the corner of the room, so I grab the chocolate doughnut, and walk over there, dialling my apartment number.

Wes answers, and I quickly let him know that Spike just came round, and that they're checking him out. He sounds genuinely pleased, and promises to tell the others. Having done my duty, I take a bite of doughnut and go back to my coffee.

Despite my initial determination to eat only one doughnut, the jelly soon follows the chocolate one into my mouth, and I'm left licking sticky sweetness off my fingers. I take a mouthful of coffee to wash it all down, and as I put the cup down, the doctor's in front of me again. I jump up, worried by his serious expression.

"How is he? He's not …"

"He's fine," he reassures me. "Everything seems to measure up normally. He's a bit slow still, sort of sleepy, but there's no sign of permanent damage. We'll still need to do a full range of tests once he's had some rest, but he seems to be ok."

"Can I …"

"Go back? Of course you can. He'll be a little groggy for a while, may even sleep a lot, but that's all it'll be, I expect, just sleep."

I exhale slowly, not even aware until I start that I'd been holding my breath. I walk the short distance back to his room, and as soon as I go in, Spike smiles at me, and tries to sit up. Before I can get to him to push him back down, he gives up the attempt, flopping onto his back.

"What do you think you're doing?" I demand, hands on hips.

"Was going to sit up, as you no doubt realise, but you and the rest of the room decided to take a turn on the waltzers, so I gave up."

"Waltzers?" I ask.

"Never mind. You, the room, spinning. Not good."

"Still spinning?" I ask, watching him.

"Slowing nicely," he says. "Expect it'll stop soon."

"Apart from that, how do you feel?"

"I feel like I've gone ten rounds with you, and I mean punches in an alleyway, but without the bruises to show for it. Don't remember much about what happened."

"Well, you didn't go ten rounds with me, not this time. What do you remember?"

"I remember Clinton starting to sing for the detuning, and after that, it all gets woolly, kind of vague, but with pain."

"You're right, Clinton sang, and the controller sang back, near as I can tell. It was the most awful sound I've ever heard, but you couldn't just hear it, you could feel it. But because the amulet's part of you, you were tuned to the controller too, and it seemed like you were finding it very painful."

"Did it work?" he says quietly.

"I think so," I tell him. "I mean, the controller finally started echoing the same note that Clinton was singing, but we didn't get the chance to test it, what with you being unconscious and all."

"Where is it?" I hear reproach in the question, so I react accordingly.

"Still where we left it, I suppose. How should I know? I thought you were dying. I didn't know what had happened to you, just that you'd been in agony, and that your heart was racing, and I thought you weren't going to make it."

"Oh," he answers. And I know he's disappointed. And I'm annoyed that he's disappointed.

"Look, I'll ask Clinton later." I promise, taking a deep breath. "Just don't worry about it for now. All we need to do is get you well enough to leave here, and then we can find out what's been happening."

"Any word on Gina?" he asks.

"No, nothing. But it sounds like Lucy and Wes have found something, some way out of the contract with the Senior Partners. Have to wait to hear the details, but it's a start. If we've got that, then all we've got to do is find out more about the source of their power, and we've got the beginning of a plan."

"I'll be fine in a minute. I just need …"

"To rest. Look, are you hungry? I could try to get you some food?"

"Could manage something," he admits, and I turn to leave the room but I'm met by a nurse carrying a tray.

"Not Espresso Pump, I'm afraid," he says as he walks in. "Probably not a good idea to have too much caffeine at the moment, but I've got some toast and orange juice. How's that sound?"

"Disappointing," Spike says, attempting to sit up again. I'm about to stop him, but he puts up a hand to stop me. This time, he seems to cope better.

"Now, some bacon, eggs, fried bread, maybe a few mushrooms, black pudding, sausages, and baked beans - that'd sound good."

"Sorry," the nurse apologises. "Need to keep it simple for now. You concentrate on resting, and you can get out of here soon. Then, it's between you and your arteries what you eat."

He leaves the tray beside the bed and walks out of the room.

Spike smiles at that, and I hand him the glass. He drinks it quickly, then hands it back to me. He lifts a piece of toast from the plate, but before he takes a mouthful, says, "See if you can get a refill? Feels like I haven't had anything to drink in forever. Water if they don't want me to have more juice."

I do so, returning a couple of moments later with two glasses, one filled with orange juice and the other with water.

When he's finished everything, Spike flops back onto his pillows.

"Tired?" I ask.

"Just a tad," he answers. "Think I'll close my eyes for a minute. "

He reaches for my hand, pulling it towards the bed. "Don't go."

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away," I promise.

He nods then, and his eyes close.

We spend the morning like that. Spike dozes, and we chat, and he dozes. But the time between the sleeps gets longer, and by the time someone comes in with lunch, he looks much better.

With lunch finished, (and Spike having eaten his way through two helpings of everything), the doctor returns and proposes a more exhaustive series of tests which he thinks will take a couple of hours.

"And after that, I get to go home?" Spike asks, but his tone of voice is such that he's not so much asking as telling.

"Well, I'd be happier if you stayed here tonight," the doctor replies.

"Your tests tell you there's nothing wrong, then I'm going home. And if there is something, unless you can sort it out fast, I'm still going."

"Ok," he admits. "I don't suppose it'll do any harm. Lucy's with you, and she can contact someone if you need help. But only if the tests don't show a problem."

It's obvious that I'm going to be in the way if I stay, so I agree to run home so I can shower and change, and come back later.

As soon as I set foot in the apartment, Willow's there, demanding details on Spike's condition. I explain as much as I know, and she listens intently. I pop into the living room to find Wes and Lucy deep in discussion, the pages of my contract with the Senior Partners spread over the floor between them. Lucy seems not to notice me at all, but Wes looks up and smiles.

"Spike's better?" he asks.

"Seems to be. They want to do some more tests, scans and stuff, and I needed a shower and some clean clothes. I'm going right back, and hopefully, he'll be coming home later today."

"I'm glad, Buffy," he says, sincerely, but I can see a cloud there where he's wishing we had good news about Gina instead. And I understand that, I really do. He hardly knows Spike, and Gina and the baby are his whole world. I approach him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll get her back, you wait and see," I promise, and I mean it. I'll do whatever needs to be done. Partly for Wes and partly for me, but mainly because she didn't sign on for all this, and the baby certainly didn't. Wes smiles in reply, a small, tight smile, and places his hand on mine. It almost feels like I've taken an oath, but it wouldn't mean any more if I actually had.

Embarrassed, Wes looks away and buries himself in the papers on his lap. I take that as my cue to smile at Lucy and go to have my shower.

I'm back at the hospital within a couple of hours, and I'm pleased to note that Spike's back in his room, and he even looks awake. I remembered to pack some clean clothes for him in a bag, and I put that on his lap. He looks inside, and with a grin, pulls out the various items.

"Close the door, Pet," he asks, pulling off the covers.

I do so, and he quickly dresses. The difference is good to see. No more invalid-Spike in bed looking pale. He's back to normal, or as close as I can tell, and once he's finished, I put my arms around him and kiss him thoroughly.

We're interrupted by a cough behind me, and the familiar doctor and a couple of other Carnolans come in.

"So, doc, what's it say? I'm back to my usual, fit and athletic self, eh?"

"Er," the doctor replies, apparently not entirely sure how to react to Spike's comment. "Not knowing the normal readings for you, it's hard to tell exactly. But, you certainly come within the normal human range for most things, and you exceed the range on a few tests. So, I'd say you're good to go. But please, if anything happens, anything at all, get in touch."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. It's not a personal one, but one for the hospital itself, or so it seems. He scribbles a name on it – Leon Williams – and hands it to Spike.

"That goes for you too," he says, turning towards me. "There may be times when your particular abilities will be difficult to explain in other medical facilities. If ever we can help you, we'll be here."

I thank him, shaking his hand warmly. I'm so relieved to be leaving here. I don't like hospitals, never have, and getting out of this one with an intact Spike is just the best possible outcome.

We get back to find that Wes has gone out. Spike's obviously tired by the way he flops onto the sofa. I go and dump our things in the bedroom, and then return to the living room.

"So, what happened with Wes?" I ask, looking at each of the women in turn.

"We'd pretty much finished," Lucy starts. "We're as sure as we can be that we can turn your contract with the Senior Partners against them. We can talk about the details later, once we've agreed on a course of action."

"Wes seemed … agitated," Willow adds. "You know, after you visited, and being all happy about Spike coming home, it seemed to upset him. Not that he wasn't happy about Spike, it's just that …"

"It made him feel bad about Gina," I finish, and Willow nods.

"I guess. Anyway, once Lucy and he had done as much as they could, he just picked up his jacket and said he was going out. He didn't answer when I asked where he was going."

"He didn't give you any idea at all?" I demand.

"No, I just thought he needed some time alone."

I go to the phone and dial his cell phone, but it's been switched off. Then I dial his apartment number, but there's no reply.

"How long ago did he leave?" I ask, still listening to phone ringing.

"Half an hour," Willow supplies. Some of my worry seems to be rubbing off on her. "Why? What do you think he's doing?"

"I don't know. He might just have gone out to get drunk, and it doesn't seem like he's gone home, but …"

"But you think it's more than that."

"I'm just worried he's gone looking for trouble."

"What sort of trouble?" Willow asks.

"Anything. Just vamps, something to hit, or maybe going to the area where Gina is, just hoping to spot something, or …"

"Or what?"

"Or going back to Wolfram and Hart," suggests Spike.

"He wouldn't," Willow argues.

"Are you sure? I might, for someone I loved. Go and have it out with the Poof at least, see what he knows."

"This is Wesley we're talking about. He's too sensible to go in there armed with nothing more than righteous indignation," Willow says in a tone which brooks no argument.

"You're probably right," I answer. "He's probably just gone out for a drink, or even just to get some exercise. At least, I hope so. Still, I'd better go and see if he's around, just in case he's found some trouble."

"And how do you expect to find him?" Spike asks.

"I don't. But if there's demon trouble around, I'll probably sense that."

"I'll just …" Spike starts to get up.

"You'll stay where you are," I answer, placing the palm of my hand on his chest. "I'm not looking for trouble either, and I won't be long. You need to rest."

He looks like he's going to protest, so I lean down towards where he's sitting, and whisper in his ear.

"I need you to keep your stamina for later."

Then I kiss him quickly, and get out of the apartment before he decides to do more than leer at me.


	34. Chapter 34 Bridges

**Chapter 34 – Bridges**

It's still daylight as I emerge from the apartment building. It seems odd to be looking for problems while the sun is still in the sky, but I pause just outside anyway, closing my eyes and just trying to sense if there's something going on. I can't feel anything, but there's something in the back of my mind telling me to turn left, so that's what I do. As I walk, I'm sending out my Slayer senses as far as I can, alert for any hint of trouble, but at the same time, I'm rifling through my memories of many conversations with both Wes and Gina for a suggestion of where he might have gone in these circumstances.

I reach a major intersection, and instinctively turn left again, moving away from Wes and Gina's place. There's a memory tickling at the back of my mind. Some sort of inside joke between Wes and Gina. I remember a comment about the amount of time he'd spent there before he met Gina. I can't even remember the name of the place, only its rough location and the fact that there was something about the name that seemed oddly appropriate.

Another intersection, and this time I have to think. I know the general area, but I don't think I've ever been there, so I'm not certain which is the best route. Straight ahead, I decide, but soon, I'm going to have to head left again.

About thirty minutes after leaving the house, I know I'm close. This is definitely a step down from where my apartment is. I pass a couple of bars without recognition, turn another corner, and then I see it. It's called the Stake Out. That's the name I couldn't recall. I approach the doorway and try to look inside, but it's dark in there compared to the still bright sunshine of outside, so I take a step inside.

It takes a moment before I can see anything clearly in the gloom, and when I do, I almost wish I hadn't. A couple of guys are looking at me – I think it's appreciatively, but if I didn't know I could beat their asses, I might feel intimidated by it. At last, I spot him in the corner, his head bent over a drink. He hasn't seen me, and I consider just leaving. He's entitled to have a drink if that's what he wants. I'm just backing out of the doorway, when he seems to move suddenly, and I jump, diving out of the bar as fast as I can. Once I'm across the street and there are enough people around that I'm not too obvious, I turn back to see what's happening. I spot him easily, coming out of the bar and turning away from both his apartment and mine. Of course, he could just be looking for somewhere different to have a drink, but I decide to follow him anyway.

Fortunately, he doesn't seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings, so following him is easy. Within ten minutes, we're in a warehouse area, and the numbers of people on the street have dropped, making it harder for me to keep out of sight. Of course, that would only be important if he was actually looking.

Still, I hang a bit further back, and, at last, I see him disappear off to the left. I speed up then, and find myself at the mouth of an alleyway. I peek in, but there's no sign of him. Taking a couple of steps into the late afternoon gloom, I still can't see him, but I can sense a vampire somewhere. There's a doorway still banging ahead, and I assume that's where Wes went. Still, I want to be subtle about this, so I take a look at the building, and spot a fire escape stairway just this side of that door, and I creep up it to an upper floor.

The door there isn't locked, so I open it and slip inside. I'm on a raised walkway overlooking a huge empty expanse. For a warehouse, it doesn't seem to be very full. I remain where I am, every sense alert, trying to get a fix on the vamp, and then I spot Wes. He's moved into the centre of the expanse below, and he pats his pockets in a manner I instantly recognise as checking for weapons, then checks his watch as if waiting for someone.

I freeze, keeping as still as I can, as Angel appears close to Wes. Score one for Spike.

"So, Wes, what can I do for you?" Angel's voice is clear.

"Maybe it's more what I can do for you."

"Look, Wes, I'm sorry how things worked out, but I can't see how you could help me."

"Remember when we were first offered Wolfram and Hart?"

"Yeah," he answers, his eyes narrowing as he tries to understand Wes' point.

"I do too. Except, now I remember all of it. All of what happened before then. I remember about Connor, about what I did, about how you tried to kill me. I remember what happened to Cordelia. I know that you agreed to take on Wolfram and Hart in order to get a normal life for Connor."

"You know, Wes, I did what I had to do. I'd do the same again if I had the chance."

"I understand."

"You do?"

"Well, not too happy about you trying to kill me, but I do understand."

"You see, when I got your call, I thought you wanted one of two things. Either you wanted me to tell you how to find your wife, or you wanted to kill me. The first, well, I can't help with, because I don't know any more than you do. As for the second, I'd have to try and stop you, but I can see why you'd try.

To you, I'm associated with Wolfram and Hart, and, indirectly at least, they're responsible for what happened to Gina. Now? I don't know what you want. Why did you call me if all you wanted to do is discuss history?"

"When you agreed to take over Wolfram and Hart, apart from getting that normal life for your son, what did you want?"

"To make a difference. To take the resources of Wolfram and Hart and use them to fight evil." Angel sounds very certain, his voice clear.

"And how do you think that's gone?"

Angel looks closely at Wes, his eyes narrowed again in thought.

"Better than it could have gone, but maybe not as well as I'd hoped."

"Why?"

"Look, what is this? If I want someone to do an analysis of my life, I'll go and see a shrink."

"Just answer the question."

"I don't know. After a while, maybe I just got so bogged down on sorting out the obvious things that needed doing, I stopped looking elsewhere."

"Maybe you listened a bit too closely to Lilah too?"

He bristles at that, but then his shoulders slump.

"Maybe. I don't know. I just had this thing, you know, this belief, that one day, Buffy and I'd be together. The shanshu prophecy seemed like the way that was going to happen, and then Lilah came up with this scheme, and it seemed to follow the prophecy, and I thought, maybe this was it. My last chance. I had a chance once before, …"

"I know, you decided to come to LA, give Buffy a chance of a normal life. It's an old story."

"No, after that. Not long after I moved to LA, Buffy was visiting, and I got into a tussle with a Mohra demon. Its blood …"

"Mohra? It has life-giving properties."

"I ended up with a beating heart, the whole thing."

I gasp, then realise I might have been heard, so I step further into the shadows. Despite my fear, the conversation continues, so I think I'm safe for now.

"And Buffy knew?"

"Yes. She did then. Now? No."

"So what happened?"

"What happened? I had the most wonderful few hours of my entire existence. No curse to worry about. Then I realised I was no use to her. I was weak and useless, and I knew if I stayed like that, Buffy would die, and I'd be responsible. So I went to the Oracles, and they agreed to fold back time, to send me back a day so I could do things differently. I was the only person who would remember that day."

I raise my hand to my eyes, roughly wiping away the tears that are filling them. I don't love Angel, I haven't, not really, for a long time, but I'm torn between feeling grief for what he lost that day and fury that, yet again, he was responsible for playing with my memories.

"Oh," Wes says, softly, but there's compassion in the tone.

"Long time ago," Angel continues. "But the memory was more bearable if I thought it was a temporary thing. Lilah? She just told me what I wanted to hear. I know that now, but then? It just seemed … right."

There's silence below, both men looking towards the floor.

"But you still haven't told me why you called."

"To give you another chance," Wes replies.

"You mean Spike's hurt her already? I'll …"

"Another chance to get back to where we started."

"I don't …"

"Look, Buffy loves Spike. And from what I've seen, Spike loves her. You'd be better to accept that. What I meant was a chance to get back on track. We're going after the Senior Partners. We could probably use some help, if you're interested. If not? We'll probably be ok without you."

"Why?"

"It might make the difference, and anyway, I remember how it was in the early days. You … really believed in what you were doing, rescuing the world one person at a time. Now, we've got the chance to take a huge step forward. No, we're not going to wipe out evil, but it could make a hell of a difference."

"What makes you so sure I'm not going to go back to the Senior Partners and tell them what you've said?"

"Well, if you do, then I'm not the judge of character I think I am. And anyway, what have I told you? Nothing they don't either know or suspect already at some level."

"What does Buffy say about this?"

"I didn't tell her I was meeting you. But Buffy's a realist. She'll understand."

"You sure?"

"As I can be."

There's another pause, and I find I'm holding my breath. I let it out slowly, desperate not to make any noise.

"I'm in," Angel says, his voice firm.

Wes gives him a small, tight smile, and nods.

"I'll be in touch."

"Wes," Angel says, as Wes turns to go.

"I'm sorry about Gina. Really. I suppose, on some level, I resented the happiness you two have. But, I think I know how you feel, you know. And, if I can help, I will."

Wes turns back to Angel, holding out his right hand. Angel grasps it in his own, and they shake.

"Thanks," Wes answers, before once again turning to leave.

I step back, further into the shadows to make sure Angel won't see me, and wait until my senses tell me he's gone. Then I slip back out of the building, and home.

Wes is already in when I get back, but it seems Willow just told him I needed some air after spending all that time at the hospital. Wes doesn't say he doesn't believe it, but he does give me a funny look.

Spike has given up on sitting with the others, and I find him in our room, where he's trying to make it look like he came to bed a while ago, but I know from Willow that he's spent a lot of time since I went out pacing. I explain to him what I overheard. Spike's first reaction is predictable.

"Knew it. Knew he'd go and see the Poof."

"But he didn't hit him, didn't try to beat him up for information or anything. He's asked him to join us in trying to destroy the Senior Partners."

"Don't need his help. We'll do just fine without him."

"Maybe," I agree. "But then there was a time when the Scoobies said the same thing about you, but I insisted I wanted you in. And you ended up saving the world."

"Does that mean he gets to wear the jewellery this time?" Spike answers, an innocent-looking smile spreading across his face. At least, he thinks it looks innocent. I've got another word for it.


	35. Chapter 35 Darkness Beckons

**Chapter 35 - Darkness Beckons**

It's late, or maybe even very early. Spike and I made love, then we chatted wrapped together in our bed. We talked about what I learned about Angel. And I needed to talk about that; I really did. I even know when it happened, remember all about the Mohra demon, just didn't know about the day that wasn't. Then, the chance to be with human-Angel would have been all my dreams come true. And he threw that away. No, he didn't throw it away. He decided it was in my best interests that it didn't happen. I shouldn't be surprised. He's been making decisions for that reason all along. I try not to show my irritation at that to Spike for fear that he think that I'd have been happier with Angel then. Truth is, I know now that it wouldn't have worked, and he'd have given up his chance to help the helpless, and we'd still have discovered we weren't the great love story we thought we were. It's just possible it might have been healthier to have done it that way, though - I don't know.

At last, Spike falls asleep. I don't really know how he kept awake as long as he did, exhausted as he was. I'm just hoping that a full night's sleep, natural sleep, will make a difference.

I'm tossing and turning, unable to settle, and I'm afraid I'm going to waken him, so I get up and pull on a robe. It's been quiet in the apartment for a while, so I assume everyone's gone to bed. I creep into the living room on my way to the kitchen, aware that Wes might be sleeping on the sofa.

He's not. He's sitting in the dark, working on his laptop. He looks up as I go in, as surprised to see me as I am to see him.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asks.

"No. You?"

"Haven't really tried," he admits. "I was just trawling through some information, making sure that whatever we end up doing, we don't fail because of something we've overlooked."

I nod at that. He sounds like Giles. Not that Giles ever said those words, but it was Giles' philosophy.

"I was just going to get a drink," I say, moving towards the door. "You want something?"

"What are you having?" he asks.

"Cocoa. Want some?"

"Please. I suppose I should try to sleep, and it might help."

He follows me into the kitchen as I set about making the cocoa.

"You're very calm," he observes.

"Calm? Can't say that's how I feel."

"I know you followed me."

"Oh." What do I say now? "Why didn't you say something?"

"I thought about it. But then I thought you might as well know what was happening. I also thought it'd be better if you didn't have to speak to Angel, so I let you think I didn't know you were there."

"I would've appreciated it if you'd discussed it with me before."

"I know. And I would have, except …"

"You said you thought I'd agree."

"Yes. But I'm still surprised you're taking it so well."

I pour the cocoa into two mugs, and we go into the living room to drink it.

"So why didn't you tell me in advance?"

"Well, to be honest, it only really occurred to me that we might need Angel after Spike was incapacitated. It was something Lucy said while we were looking at the contract. She seemed very worried that Spike might not be well enough to take part in something, implying that you alone might not be enough. She wouldn't tell me more, and I think she was embarrassed at letting me in on that much. So, I started thinking. Without Spike, and with you worried about him, we were sort of lacking in the greater-than-human-strength department. And right now, my only priority is getting Gina back in one piece. I consider my best chance for that will be to make sure the Senior Partners are defeated. We needed another option, and naturally, I thought of Angel."

"Which still doesn't explain why you didn't say something. You knew before you left that Spike was on the mend."

"I did, but I arranged to meet Angel before I knew that. And it's always possible that he might prove essential in the end."

"I see." Well, what else can I say? I really do see. I'd have done the same if I thought it would improve the chances of getting Spike back. In fact, I did. I acted as I thought best without discussing it with Wesley, so I can't really complain about him doing it to me.

"You're taking Angel's revelation better than I thought."

"Am I?" I shrug. "It's not as if it's the first time he's made a decision in my best interests without consulting me."

"Ah. No, I don't suppose it is." There's silence for a moment, before he adds, "So, how do you feel?"

"About human-Angel or about having him on the team?"

"Having him on the team. You going to be able to deal with that?"

"I'll have to. You know, when I told Spike what happened, I reminded him that I had to fight the others to get him accepted onto the team back in Sunnydale. He ended up being the person who swung the whole thing. So, no, I'm not going to be making any waves. But it won't be easy. And if he starts in on Spike, then I won't be responsible for what happens."

"Fair enough. I don't plan on telling him too much of what's happening until the last moment anyway. I want him to be 'business as usual' over at the office."

"Makes sense. And Spike'll be relieved. He said that Angel would be wanting to take over the show. So, if nothing else, it'll save some arguments if he's not around too much."

"There's not a lot of love lost between the two of them, and a lot of that has nothing to do with you, you know."

"I do. But I also know that if they start bickering, I might start reaching for a stake. Still, we'll keep them apart as much as possible, and we might even get through this."

I drain my cup, and Wes starts to close down his computer.

"Lucy said Clinton would be here in the morning. I think she wants some decisions from you. If they're the right ones, she might actually start parting with some useful information."

"I hope so. I really do. I want Gina back too. And I also want some time to enjoy the fact that Spike's back - a chance to build on what we've got and see if it's as good as it seems to be when I'm not in Slayer-mode."

"And if everything else goes back to normal, will you go back to work as usual?"

"I think so. I was doing a useful job, I really believe that."

"And what about Spike?"

"Well, you'd have to ask him."

"I will, but … I thought I'd see what you think first. I'm finished with Wolfram and Hart. Even if they wanted me back, I wouldn't be going. And you know I've been trying to set myself up in business independently. Not doing too badly, actually, but I could use some help. And someone with Spike's rather unusual talents, let's just say, he could be ideal for the job. Of course, I'm not sure how it'll pay, at least for the moment. We used to do OK when we were just Angel Investigations working out of the Hyperion, so we should be fine. As it is, I'm going to have to dig into our savings for a while."

"Like I said, you'll have to talk to Spike, but I think he might be interested. And if money's tight, then I can probably put something in …"

Wes starts to object, but I plough on regardless. "I mean officially, shares or something. I've got some savings. But we're getting ahead of ourselves now. What I need is some sleep, if I can persuade my mind to slow down enough to let that happen."

As I stand up I yawn deeply, then smile at the absurdity of it. "Looks like I may be able to sleep after all. Goodnight, Wes. Sleep well."

"And you, Buffy."

"You have everything you need?"

He nods to a pile of bed linen on the other chair.

"I'll be fine. I could go home, but …"

"No, Wes. You shouldn't be alone right now. It's no more than you and Gina did for me when we were trying to get Spike back. Least I can do."

"Well, we were hoping for some babysitting later …"

"Goes without saying," I answer, pleased to hear him sounding so much more positive. "Honorary Aunt Buffy at your service."

I creep back into our room, dump my robe on the floor and crawl back into bed. I try not to touch Spike, afraid that I'll wake him, even though I crave the contact so much it's like a physical ache. Despite my best efforts, though, as soon as I'm in, Spike wriggles towards me, still asleep, and I fall asleep with his arm around me.

It seems only seconds later, but judging by the light shining through the window, it's been longer than that when I wake to find Spike studying me closely.

"What?" I ask.

He screws up his eyes and shakes his head slightly.

"What're you looking at?" I repeat.

"Well you, obviously. Just watching you wake up. It's taken a couple of minutes already since you started stirring."

"I'm that fascinating, eh?"

He shrugs, almost in embarrassment, and I feel a small stab of guilt.

"Suppose it's only fair," I admit. "I spent a lot of time watching you waking up recently."

He seems satisfied with my answer. I snuggle closer to him, enjoying the moment, but he glances at the clock and sighs.

"It's late already. I think we should get up. Not that I wouldn't love to spend the whole day right here, but we've got other people who need our time right now."

Of course, he's right.

"You want a shower?" I ask.

"Might be a good idea. You want to go first?"

"No, I'll just lie here and wake up slowly. You won't be long, will you?"

"Not as long as if you came with me."

"Probably just as well I stay here, then," I add firmly. I've got to say it firmly, because I need convincing too.

Clinton's already there when I make it to the kitchen for some breakfast. I pick up some cereal and take it into the living room, where he and Lucy are already deep in conversation. Not that it's the sort of conversation you can listen to or anything. I mean, not with the actual spoken words, more of the thought transfer thing.

The really surprising thing, though, is the fact that Spike's got the controller in his hands. He's fidgeting with it, twining it round his fingers. My attention is taken from watching Spike by Willow's voice in my head.

"Creepy, huh?" I look up to see her moving her eyes in the direction of Clinton and Lucy.

"And you doing that to me isn't?"

She shrugs. "I hope we're going to get what we need this morning. If you want my opinion, Wes is ready to crack."

I glance at him, and outwardly he seems his usual calm self.

"It's his aura," Willow adds. "I finally worked out how to do something Tara could do effortlessly. You know, when we were together, I thought I was the one with all the power. And in some ways I was, but I never spent the time trying to learn the little things, the things that came naturally to her. It was almost like, if she could do it, then it wasn't so much, so I had to go and try something bigger."

"You still miss her."

"Every day. I think that's the part that makes me see that what I've got with Kennedy isn't in the same league. I miss Tara more right now than I miss Kennedy. And it's been eight years since I touched her, heard her voice, except in my dreams."

There's sadness in Willow's mental tone, and it's reflected on her face. I smile back at her, a smile that's intended to tell her that I understand. I glance at the others and realise that Clinton and Lucy have been watching Will and me. Looks like it's show time.

"As you know, I have had your contract with the Senior Partners checked over by the foremost experts we have within our community," Lucy begins as soon as she knows she has our attention. "We have scoured Wes' memories as well as the paper contract, looking for anything which we can use against them. And I'm sure Wesley has told you, we believe that the Senior Partners have outwitted themselves as regards the contract that you signed. If you wish, we can now explain what we found, so that you can make some sort of decision as to your actions from here." Lucy's voice sounds clear, but there's a concerned frown on her face. Despite her apparent confidence, there's something she's not sure about, and I wish I knew what it was.

"Ok, what did you find?" I ask, directing the question more at Wes than Lucy, but Lucy answers anyway.

"We believe that in their dealings with you, the first priority of the Senior Partners was to keep quiet about the history that links them with Carnolans. That led to some wording in the contract which could be construed as very careless, but which we believe was intended to keep that information from you. As the contract stands, you have agreed to destroy the Carnolan species, but there is no definition of exactly who is meant. As part of its deal with them, the Darkness granted the Senior Partners immortality, so there must be some sort of physiological difference. And that's in addition to the, shall we say, cultural differences. As we understand the contract, you are required to destroy one group, but it will be up to you to choose which sub-species is in greater need of destruction."

"So, you're saying that if I destroy the Senior Partners, then I'll fulfil my contract?" I ask in disbelief.

"Essentially," Wes confirms. "It seems most likely that having me involved in the contract was unexpected. They did not intend to have a witness who was versed in the detail of such things. They assumed also that you would simply allow yourself to be pointed in the direction of a demon species and that you would destroy without thought. In fact, they expected you to behave in the way that countless Slayers have done, at the behest of the Council. You know what I mean. There are no shades of grey, just demons who are evil. The fact that they intended to take Gina, was, in my opinion, due to more than Spike's ability to thwart the control of the amulet. I believe it was intended to make us act rashly, to go ahead and destroy the Carnolan people."

"But why would they think I'd be a good little Slayer and seek and destroy? I've never exactly been the Council's puppet."

"We can only guess," says Lucy. "But, from what I've already told you about Carnolans, one idea suggests itself. They don't understand change. It simply doesn't fit into their way of looking at the world. Slayers have always been the instruments of the Council, and, for the most part, done exactly what they were told. Those who didn't, well, let's say, the ritual at their eighteenth birthday can be made easier or more difficult depending on the result believed most appropriate."

"You mean they intended me to die?" The certainty of that almost takes my breath away.

"I believe that's likely," Wes confirmed. "It's not something which was generally known, and certainly, those who were assigned as Watchers to the girls concerned were never told, but when Giles managed to retrieve whatever of the Council's documents were not stored in the main building, that much became obvious. A great number of highly secret documents were actually found in the cellars of Quentin Travers' home."

"And Giles didn't tell me this? And neither did you?"

"Giles believed it wouldn't serve any purpose, and to be honest, I can see his point. You survived, and went on to save the world. And I know that Giles felt even more guilty about his involvement in the ritual after he discovered the real purpose of it."

"So, these Senior Partners thought they could just point me and I'd solve all their problems?" I'm trying to put this new information to the back of my mind for later. I don't need any more to deal with right now.

"That seems the most likely scenario," Lucy agrees. "It's certainly true that there are many among our own people who believe it too, who couldn't understand why we would seek you out. It's only because of my influence, and the influence of many of my predecessors, that we have been able to try to bring you to our side of the divide. And now that you know what you do, I must ask you whether our risk has been in vain."

And instantly, I know why she's unsure. She really doesn't know which way I'm going to jump on this. Or at least, she's afraid that something she's been warned about is going to happen, and that she's going to be proved wrong.

I turn towards Wes. "So, as far as you're concerned, this all makes sense. The Senior Partners left the contract woolly so that I wouldn't be alerted to the fact that there are two versions of Carnolans around these days. And if I destroy their version, I'll be keeping my end of the bargain."

"As far as I know, yes. The contract's been checked out as thoroughly as we can arrange, and that's what it says."

"And what would happen to me if there was something that you missed? If I destroy the Senior Partners and that doesn't fulfil the contract. They wouldn't exist any more, so they couldn't hold me to the contract so that'd be the end of it anyway, right?"

"Er, no. The contract is an entity in its own right. And it is possible that there's something else there, of such subtlety that we haven't been able to spot it."

"And that would mean?"

"Well, since I don't know if it even exists, then I couldn't say for sure. If it's there, it could require just about anything, up to and including your death and the subsequent destruction of the rest of the Carnolan."

"But it's not likely, is it?"

"Insofar as I don't believe that I was intended to be a party to the contract, I think that it was kept very simple as they had no reason to do otherwise. In their plan, you would never have spent enough time with Lucy to have the contract analysed by Carnolan experts, and I wouldn't have been involved at all. Slayers, after all, in their world-view, do not have friends."

So, this is it. And, surprise, surprise, I might end up dead, so nothing new there. But then, that's always the case. Every time I go into a cemetery after dark, or help out some poor unfortunate who's run into a vampire, I could end up dead. And they've been playing games with my Spike, and they wanted to take Gina. So it's personal.

"Ok, I'll do it. I'll take on the Senior Partners," I say.

Despite his silence throughout the whole conversation so far, Spike answers with an affirmation of his own.

"And me. Whatever needs to be done, I'm in too."

I smile at him, feeling better already about whatever we've got to face. Because with Spike at my back? What could go wrong?

"Right," I say, turning to face Lucy. "I think you need to give us some more information."


	36. Chapter 36 Ghost Stories by Daylight an...

**Chapter 36 - Ghost Stories by Daylight**

The day takes on an eerie personality of its own after that. We sit around listening to Lucy telling us about the Senior Partners like kids at a pyjama party sharing ghost stories. Except these ghosts are real, and we all know just how much damage they can do.

"The original group who left our society and made a deal with the Darkness was small but even then, three of them were the leaders. The others were weak in comparison, and willingly followed the three because of the things they were promised. The split happened a very long time ago, before human history was recorded except by word of mouth, and since our history is now interspersed with that of the humans who have chosen to share their lives, the actual time scale is blurred. Nevertheless, the deal was made, and this group was taken out of this reality, this universe, into another. The reward granted them by the Darkness was twofold. The first of these was that they were granted immortality. That doesn't mean they cannot die, but more that they will not age, in much the same way that vampires do not age. However, they can be killed. Inevitably, squabbles broke out among the three, petty rivalries for the most part, which led to the deaths, eventually, of all the followers. The three who remain, however, were always the real threat, so nothing has really changed. From what we know of them, it is hard to imagine these three working in concert, but it is true that we have no information to suggest that they still vie among themselves for supremacy."

Lucy pauses then, looking at her audience and apparently finding us all paying appropriate attention, so she returns to her tale.

"The second part of the reward they were given was the ability to wield power greater than even they had been able to. However, we believe that this is a double-edged gift, in that the ability to use this power is limited in some way. It is certainly true that they prefer to show their power in short and ugly bursts, aimed at terrifying their minions in this world, and that, added to the benefits available to those who are loyal to them, is enough to ensure obedience. They are able to follow closely the thoughts of those who have sold themselves, although the extent to which it is done will vary according to the perceived risk. To escape such control is very unusual. This power is not limited to the living, since it can, as you have seen, hold one who is dead in every real sense."

I glance at Wes, and see a tiny nod of acknowledgement. Then something occurs to me.

"What about Angel? Are they watching his thoughts like that? Do they know what we're planning?"

"As I understand the situation with Angel and the others who joined him, no. The idea wasn't that Angel should be controlled, but rather that he should be corrupted naturally. I would imagine that a creature with the flair for evil inherent in Angelus would be considered a greater prize than merely keeping Angel under their thumb. Does that seem to be correct, Wes?"

Wes is looking thoughtful as she speaks, but nods as soon as she questions him. "I've certainly never felt that we were being overtly controlled by the Senior Partners. If I had, I would have attempted to leave long ago. I think you're probably right, that they were simply hoping that the power available to him would eventually corrupt Angel, soul and all."

"Thank you, Wes. To continue, these three remaining Carnolan identify themselves with certain characteristics, and indeed, have always done so. One thinks himself especially wily and clever, and in this time takes the name of the Wolf. Another thinks of himself as particularly strong, although I don't think he ever measured his strength in terms of physical muscles but rather in terms of what he can endure, and he uses the name of the Ram. And the third, who thinks himself especially quick, and again, I don't mean that in purely physical terms, uses the name of the Hart. And from there, of course, you get the name of the organisation in this dimension which they run for their own purposes - Wolfram and Hart."

Well, that makes sense, I suppose. So, there are three of them, and they don't live in this dimension. So far, not seeing too many chances of destroying them once and for all. Still there must be more.

"There are attempts described in our history, brave men who tried to defeat the three. Those who tried were destroyed. It is a long time since the last attempt, but the memory of what happened to those brave men lives on in every Carnolan, passed on from father to son and from husband to wife."

She pauses again, shuddering, and I notice her normally pale complexion is almost ashen.

"You know that the Carnolan can communicate telepathically. This is a bond which is at the base of our society. Yet it was this ability that the Senior Partners used to ensure their superiority over the rest of their kind. Before they were involved with the Darkness, they used their abilities with the magic of the Carnolan to destroy many of their own kind. With the extra abilities granted them by the Darkness, they were able to hone that skill to a truly terrifying weapon. Those who were sent to destroy them were killed in the most horrific manner imaginable. Their minds were filled with images which were utterly terrifying, and their bodies with pain that was all but unimaginable. In the last attempt, they made sure there would be no further attacks, by forcing every other Carnolan on the planet to share some part of the agony of those they destroyed. We believe they would have destroyed the whole people at that time had they been able to. This is an example of the limitations of their power. We suspect that being in a separate dimension must limit their power here. They could, of course, come to this dimension to achieve our final demise, but we believe they see that as a foolhardy move since they are more vulnerable among the hordes of humans who populate this planet."

"So you won't risk your own people any more, but why should we have any more luck?" Spike sounds suspicious.

"Simple. Since you are not Carnolan, you will be much less receptive to the control they exert on minds."

"Are you sure about that?"

"We are certain that you will be very much less receptive than any Carnolan, but we cannot be certain that you will feel no effect."

"What about Spike? You say that I should be less receptive than a Carnolan, but Spike's got the essence of a Carnolan artefact inside him. How is he going to be affected?"

Clinton's voice sounds in my mind, and apparently, all the others present too.

"I can't promise that he won't be more affected than you are, but without being specifically tuned to the original amulet, the effect should be much less than with a Carnolan. However, if you wish, I will see if Willow and I can contrive something to temporarily mute that aspect of his being. Are you agreeable, Willow?"

"Sure," she says aloud. "Not sure what I'd need to do, but if you can show me …"

There's silence, both mental and physical for a moment, but by the look of concentration on Willow's face, I know she's still hearing something.

"Oh, I see," she murmurs at last. "No problem."

"Ok," I say. "So, they shouldn't be able to defeat us just by the power of their minds. What else aren't you telling us?"

"Well, naturally, these are three Carnolans, and their physical strength will be at least that of an average of the species. However, we suspect that as a result of the changes wrought by the Darkness, they may be stronger, and harder to kill than would normally be the case."

"And how do we kill them? I mean, vampires? Easy. Three options. I tend to go for cutting off heads for other demons if I can't think of anything else, but even that's not foolproof."

"Beheading will be adequate, we believe, but, to be safe, perhaps burning the remains?" Lucy's smile is small and possibly rather tolerant-looking.

"Ok, sounds to be within normal parameters. And it sounds like I'm channelling the Initiative here."

Lucy looks confused for a second, then seems to decide to ignore my off topic comment.

"So, how do we get at them? They're in another dimension, but other Carnolans have been sent there before. So, how is it done?"

"For this, you will need magic. I assume, Willow, that you will be able to open a gateway to the dimension if I give you something to home in on?"

"Yeah, sure. I've done that sort of thing a time or two, but it's not something I like to mess with. Never know what'll happen. But surely you could do that? You don't need me."

"True, Clinton would be more than capable of doing that. But it would leave him open to attack if the attempt was spotted. And you, with your power which stems from a different source, will be less likely to be spotted anyway. And you are quite right to be wary of such magics, but I believe the risks in this case to be limited to those we have already discussed. As soon as Buffy and whomever she wishes to assist her are through, the gateway should be closed."

"But if it's closed, how do we get back?" Spike demands.

"Simple," Lucy says. "Since the dimension in which the Senior Partners reside was manufactured for their use, it will cease to exist when they do. You will be dropped right back into the dimension in which it existed, and that is all around us."

"So, once we're in, we don't get out unless we kill the three of them, that it?" Spike almost sounds like he's looking for a fight, but I look at his face and realise it's quite the opposite. He's really looking forward to this.

"Is that a problem?" Lucy asks.

"No, no problem at all. Just like to make sure I know the odds, that's all."

"How about you?" Lucy asks me.

"I've gone into things with apparently less chance of succeeding before now, so I guess I'm ok with it. It's who I am. I just forgot that for a while."

Spike smiles at me as I say that, and I know he's relieved to hear it. I think he's looking forward to what's coming the way he always did look forward to a fight, and he's glad I've still got some of that too. Still, if we're going to try to make something of our life together, maybe we're going to have to find some sort of middle road.

"Can I do the mojo here? To open the portal?" Willow asks.

"It's possible," Lucy answers. "But we had most success when we were close to the source of Wolfram and Hart's power in this dimension."

"And that would be …?"

"The basement of the Wolfram and Hart building, of course."

"Well, that means Angel's got a job, then," Spike mutters, and I can tell he's not entirely happy about that.

"Yes," agrees Wes. If he picked up on Spike's unwelcoming tone he hasn't said anything.

The group dissolves then, as I move closer to Spike to see if I can help with his concerns about Angel, and Willow asks for information on the portal opening. No sooner have I calmed Spike a bit, than Wes joins us.

"Tonight ok?" he asks.

"Don't see any point in waiting, mate," Spike says, and earns a pat on the shoulder from Wes.

"Assuming we can get the portal open, and Spike protected from having his mind invaded, why not?" I agree.

"How are you off for weapons?" Wes asks.

"Not so good these days," I admit. "A lot of the Slayer stash was destroyed with Sunnydale, and what was left was divided up among the new Slayers who wanted something. I've got stakes, but not a lot else. I gave the scythe to Kennedy since she was taking on an active hellmouth. And, well, she sort of expected to have it."

"I've got a reasonable private collection," Wes says. "I keep some of it at home, but there are some pieces which I store elsewhere. I think we should pay that collection a visit and pick out something for each of us."

By the time we're ready to go and do that, Willow's hard at work deciding what she needs to bring about the portal. So that we don't have to leave Lucy alone, we agree to pick up what she needs while we're out, giving Willow some peace to prepare for the magic she's going to have to channel later.

We first go to the magic supplies store. It's bigger than the Magic Box and for the most part full of things which would have had Anya rubbing her hands in glee - worthless but appropriately valuable looking, and therefore profitable. I feel a twinge of sadness as I think about her. For all her, well, idiosyncrasies, she was a very special person. I don't think Xander ever really got over the fact that he got out of Sunnydale and she didn't.

Despite all the trashy stuffy, there is a section which caters to the more experienced practitioner, and Wes takes over the purchase of what is necessary. He may not have Willow's power, but he's got a good background in the theory. While he's doing that, Spike and I wander around checking out the other merchandise.

Once out of there, we get back into Wes' car and drive to a part of the city I've never been in before. It seems to be unnaturally dark and mysterious - more like a Gotham City set for a Batman movie than LA. When he eventually pulls up to the kerb outside a large, gothic looking building, Spike and I share a look of distaste.

"It's not far from here," Wes offers as he climbs out of the car.

"And where exactly is 'here'?" Spike demands.

"Probably best if you don't know too much," Wes counters. "I have some … friends who live around here. Some non-human friends. I was able to help them out a few years ago, and they offered to help me if I needed it. When I married Gina, I decided it wasn't appropriate to keep all my weapons at home any more, and they agreed to store them for me. They're going to be very wary of the Slayer in their midst, and I'm going to have to vouch for you, so try to be friendly. And I've got no idea what they're going to make of Spike."

"Wouldn't be the first time someone had that problem," Spike mutters as we fall in behind Wes.

Round the corner and into a dark alley. Why must it always be alleys? Can't people do business in brightly lit, tree-lined avenues? Deeper into the darkness then down a flight of stairs to a doorway. Wes knocks a strange rhythm on the door, then waits quietly until it opens a crack. Wes motions behind for us to wait, and slips inside. I can hear his voice explaining the situation, and then a scurrying sort of noise, and then silence for a few moments.

"Renshaw demons," Spike whispers to me.

"What?" I ask.

"Renshaw. Don't like humans a great deal, but not in the need for violence sort of way. Don't like many other demon species either, far as I can tell. Don't make good food for a vampire, though, so our paths don't often cross, well, unless you're Angelus in one of his whimsical moods. Pretty harmless. Can sting, but no poison or anything, just a nasty sharp pain. Generally prefer to be left alone."

"And you know this how?"

"Well, don't know, not as such. Just guessing, from the sound, you know? Sounds like wings being flapped in a confined space."

"Wings?"

"Not telling you anything else. Waiting to see the look on your face if they let you see them."

He's grinning at me, and I'm not altogether comfortable with that, but before I have time to do anything about it, the door opens fully, and Wes beckons us in.

"Follow me," he says.

"Where are our … hosts?" I ask.

"They're around, they'd just prefer to stay out of your way. Like I said, they're not too keen on humans, and even less so when it comes to Slayers."

I shrug and follow Wes further into the building, down another flight of steps and down a corridor with closed doors on either side. I hear that same noise again as we move. I called it scurrying, but that's not really it. Certainly, it could be wings flapping but not really getting going, but I'm finding it hard to picture.

There's some further flapping ahead, and Wes stops at one of the doors. I've no idea if he recognised it or someone told him it was the right one, as I can't see anything to distinguish it from all the others. Wes puts a palm up to the door, and I hear the sound of bolts being drawn, then the door opens. We follow him inside to what appears to be a storage room. One wall is covered with wide shelves, and close to another is a cabinet which houses an array of swords the likes of which I've never seen.

Wes opens the cabinet - this time using a rather mundane key - and pulls out one of those inside. It's a sabre, and a wicked looking one at that. He hefts it in his hand a few times before nodding.

"I'll take this one. See if there's anything to suit you there. I'll go and look out some smaller pieces."

"You're coming?" I ask. Somehow I'd reckoned on Spike, Angel and me. The idea that Wes was coming too just hadn't occurred to me.

He glares at me for a moment, then answers. "Naturally. I would not expect any of the rest of you to risk yourselves if I wasn't willing to bear the same risk. And I've already told you that I believe that our current plan is the best way of getting Gina back."

"But …"

"But nothing. I'm coming, and I'm not at all sure you can stop me."

He turns his back on me to ensure that the conversation is over. I turn to look at Spike who seems singularly impressed by the collection. He lifts a very light looking, needle pointed thing and waves it around a time or two before putting it down and taking a broadsword from its support. He grins as he feels the weight of it. Truthfully, it looks kind of big for him, and if he only had human strength, it probably would be.

"You ok with me taking this one, Love?" he asks.

"Yeah, fine. I like the look of this one anyway."

I pick up another broadsword, but this one is smaller than his - smaller, shorter, and breathtakingly beautiful. The hilt is intricately worked in what looks like silver and gold, and it's the most beautifully balanced sword I've ever held.

We look round to find that Wes has sorted several knives from a box on one of the shelves. He puts them into a bag which is lying in the corner, and suggests we do the same with our chosen weapons. We leave quietly the way we arrived, and the only sign that we're not alone is that same flapping sound in the darkness. Once at the door, Wes turns around and speaks to someone, thanking them for their help. Just before the door closes, I catch a glimpse of something so beautiful I instinctively move towards it. Wes holds up a hand to stop me and I do.

"If she showed herself to you, you should be grateful, but leave it at that. You've been granted a significant honour."

"Renshaw?" Spike asks.

"You recognised them?" Wes seems surprised.

"By the sound. Angelus had a thing about them at one time. Not a period I'm happy to remember."

"Ah, I see. You know, of course, that Renshaw is the human name for them?"

"Guessed as much, but never got the chance to chat while Angelus was entertaining a couple of them."

"Their own name for themselves is unpronounceable to us, but it apparently means 'night dancers'."

"Appropriate," Spike agrees. "Nearest thing to fairies you'll find," he informs me. "Probably the basis of all the fairy myths there are. Prefer to keep out of the way, though. So, how'd you get to be so pally with them?" he addresses Wes. "Never knew them to allow humans among them."

"Well, Wolfram and Hart was approached a few years back by some big Hollywood producer. He'd found out about the existence of these demons and thought they'd go down a treat in some film he was making. So, he had a load of them kidnapped. He had some mage or other keeping them under control and he was in the process of 'training' them. He actually came to us because he thought we'd find him a better trainer than he already had. I took responsibility for the case, found a 'trainer' who managed to train them to freedom. I was offered a version of three wishes, although the choice was rather more mundane than in the stories. It just boiled down to being able to ask for three favours. So far, I've only asked one, and that was for use of the storage facilities we visited. I'm honestly not sure they could do anything else for me that'd be useful, but you never know."

We walk back to the car in thoughtful silence, and remain quiet all the way back to my apartment. Once there, Spike is accosted by Willow, and he follows her into the bedroom she's been using and where, apparently, Clinton is waiting. They emerge about half an hour later, and Spike seems less than happy, but Willow informs me that everything went well.

"What's up?" I ask, dragging Spike to one side.

He shakes his head. "Just don't like having people poking around in my head, that's all. Right now, it feels like there's this lump of cotton wool in there, keeping me from remembering something important. They tell me it's just the dampening, and that it'll go after a day or so, but it's still bloody irritating."

I stroke his head at that, then plant a kiss on his lips. "Sorry, can't make it all better right now. Later maybe?"

"You'd better believe it," he replies, smiling back.

With that, we join the others, and the remaining time is spent ensuring that we each have everything we need. Wes calls Angel and agrees when and where they should meet, and Lucy prepares a quick meal for everyone.

By eleven thirty we're ready, and we drive to the Wolfram and Hart building, leaving Lucy and Clinton alone in my apartment behind every ward Willow can think to apply. This is it. This is what we've been heading towards for months, or more correctly, years. This is the consequence of Spike using that amulet to close the hellmouth all those years ago. But it's more than that. It's our opportunity to destroy one of the major influences for evil alive in the world today. And that makes it special.


	37. Chapter 37 Into the Fray

**Chapter 37 - Into the Fray**

Angel meets us, not inside the Wolfram and Hart building, but at an anonymous looking entrance to an apparently different building. According to Wes, it's one of several ways into the building used only by senior employees or clients who, for whatever reason, don't want to be seen doing business with a firm of Wolfram and Hart's reputation. And I wonder why that might be.

Once inside, the discrete security melts away at the sight of Angel. To my surprise, Fred's there too, and she greets us warmly, if a little nervously when it comes to Spike. Angel starts giving us a sales pitch which sounds pretty bogus to me, but which doesn't seem to alarm any of the others who're around. In fact, part of the reason it sounds so bad is the fact that Angel seems acutely embarrassed by the whole thing. I can hear it in his tone of voice, and Spike's smirk shows he noticed too. I glare at Spike to make sure he keeps his mouth shut, and we continue from the reception area into a private lift for which Angel produces a key.

Once inside, Angel hits a code, and the lift descends rapidly.

"Those security staff don't have any way of knowing where this lift is going once I've activated my personal code," he informs us. "Hopefully, they believe you're just potential clients come to view the facilities. In fact, we're going to one of the lowest basement levels."

"Any particular reason?" I ask. "Lucy didn't say anything about the level of the building we need to be on."

"Privacy," Angel replies. "The upper basements are used for storage and so on and don't have a lot of staff, but there's always the possibility of meeting someone who might just ask questions we'd rather not answer. The lower we go, the less likely that is to happen."

"I take it we're going to the catacombs," Wes states, looking to Angel for confirmation.

"Yes. I gave some thought to the best area of the building, and that seemed where we're least likely to be interrupted. No one currently has any reason to be there."

"The catacombs?" Spike asks. "We're not in bloody Rome, mate."

"Naturally," Wes agrees, stepping between Spike and Angel as he sees Angel stiffen at Spike's tone. "It's just what they're known as on the building plan. I suspect it's whatever was on this site a long time before the current building, or even, before the city itself was founded. It's a small group of interconnecting caves which we believe were once used for some sort of demon worship, but the best minds in the company have agreed has no remaining mystical energy associated with them."

"If it's so dead, why is it accessible from the rest of the building?" Spike insists, asking Wes, but giving Angel a sidelong glance as he does so.

"I did actually investigate this when we first arrived. Apparently, that level of the basement was intended for further storage, and that's why it was excavated. This was back in the thirties, and there was a particular project on the books which required some rather specialised storage. Anyway, the cave system was found, and people were sent in to investigate, but before the investigation was complete, the project was cancelled, and the catacombs remained undisturbed."

"When Angel told me what you planned, and that he was going to bring you down here, I agreed it seemed to be a good option," Fred offers. "I know a bit about opening portals, and some of them can get a bit out of hand. Where we're going? It withstood every earthquake California has experienced in more years than we've been keeping records about earthquakes. It should be the safest option."

She turns her attention to Willow. "I don't know exactly what you're doing, but Angel did say he could do with someone to keep you company while the rest of you are gone."

Willow smiles her thanks, but remains quiet, trying to focus on what she's about to do.

She doesn't add the possible need to get Willow out of the building if things go wrong, but I know she means that too.

The elevator lurches to a stop, and the door opens to reveal an anonymous-looking corridor.

"Doesn't look a lot like catacombs to me," Spike mutters, under his breath but loud enough to be heard.

Angel ignores the comment, but Fred seems happy to answer.

"Well, no. To get there, we have to go down some stairs. There didn't seem to be any point in putting in a lift shaft if it wasn't going to be used after all."

We walk past numbered rooms, all of which seem to be locked, and reach another door. Angel opens it, and we follow him onto a ledge which overlooks a large, eerily lit cavern. We climb down some rough steps to the floor, and I take a good look around. The lighting seemed to come on as we arrived, but I can't see its source.

Angel doesn't stop once at the bottom of the stairs, but walks purposefully through the cavern towards an opening in the furthest wall. Once there, another cavern becomes illuminated, and once we're all through, the lighting behind us winks out.

Angel moves towards one wall of the cavern where the ceiling is lower than elsewhere, and where we're out of a direct line with the doorway through which we entered.

"Here ok?" he asks.

The question seems to be directed to Willow, and she answers that it's fine, then sets about arranging what she needs. Spike and I help, pulling the various things out of the bags we carried here, and placing them to her directions. Wes and Angel stand close together chatting, but I can tell from their tones that neither of them is entirely comfortable in the other's company.

When Willow's ready, we gather up our weapons, and stand together waiting for the portal to open. Willow looks determined as she sits there, her arms outstretched, her palms upward as she begins her work. Fred is standing to one side, watching, and not a little wary - perhaps not surprising considering what I know about her past.

It doesn't take too long - the portal appears in front of us, and with a shared glance, the four of us form into a line and move towards it, I go first, with Spike behind me, and Wes and Angel follow.

There's some initial disorientation as I step through, so I take a deep breath and make an effort to shake it off. When I look around, though, the first thing I notice is that I'm alone.

My first thought is that something went wrong - something about the portal means that we've been sent to different places. Well, as long as I've come to the right place, I can finish off the Senior Partners and then work out where the others are.

I'm in a room. It's bare, with apparently wooden flooring, but the walls are black. I approach the closest of them, and reach out a hand. It's smooth, like plastic, and as I touch it, it's as though it changes, becoming transparent. On the other side of the wall is Spike, looking as bewildered as I feel.

"Any sign of the others?" I ask, wondering if he'll hear me.

"Thought I was alone till I saw you," he answers, but then I hear two other voices. I walk in the direction of one of them - another wall of my room. I touch it as I did before, and it melts into transparency to show Wesley.

"Angel?" I ask.

Wes shakes his head, but from behind me I hear Angel's voice, so I approach the opposite wall and touch it. Again, it shifts, clearing, and I see Angel too.

"So, what now?" Spike asks, and I turn to him.

"Welcome," a disembodied voice sounds. "We had hoped to avoid this confrontation, since we would have preferred to have you as an ally, Slayer. However, since you come here armed, and with others, you will meet your end. It seems a terrible waste, but it was your choice."

"And Angel," it continues. "Et tu, Brute? Isn't that the appropriate phrase from human literature and history? After everything we gave you, all the power we offered, still you betray us. Is this woman really so special? That you would give up everything for her even though she has shown herself faithless, choosing another instead of you?"

"This has nothing to do with Buffy. It's simply a question of doing what's right."

"You don't fool us, vampire. We understand your motivation, even if you delude yourself. Still, you can still change your mind, and in the instant of your changing your mind you will be transported to your office, with nothing changed. Perhaps we can even persuade the woman to change her mind? Or would it be enough simply to have her, even if her mind was broken?"

"It's an empty promise you're making. You've given me the chance of Buffy's shell, or at best, Buffy against her will. Yes, I love her. I think I always will, but I want her to want to be with me. If I can't have that, then it would be meaningless."

"So, you reject our offer. So be it."

I catch Angel's eye as the voice goes quiet, and I can see his love for me in his eyes. It makes me sad to know that he realises that what I felt when I was sixteen wasn't enough to withstand the process of growing up, but I send him a silent 'thank you' by way of a nod which he returns.

"And you, Watcher? You too? Did we not give you your heart's desire? Knowledge without bounds? Books you believed no longer in existence? Surely we do not deserve this from you?"

"Whatever you have given me," Wes responds clearly, "is nothing compared with what you have taken from me."

"And, pray, what have we taken from you? We can think of nothing"

"My integrity, my self respect, and most recently, my wife and my unborn child."

"No, no, Wesley. We haven't taken those first two. If you have lost them in any measure, it is entirely your own doing. And your wife? We had no hand in that. Certainly, we would have liked to have made her acquaintance in person, but we have never had that privilege. However, if you would like to turn your back on this foolish undertaking, you too might be restored to your previous life. In fact, without Angel, we'll be needing someone else to take over. Doesn't that appeal at all? How often in these past years has the need to subjugate your own opinions to Angel's rankled with you? Imagine how much good you would be able to do without his dubious morality to steer you wrong? And you know, it's only a matter of time before we find your wife. And when we do, it would be a simple matter to restore her to you. Even for us to remove the memories of this time from her so that she can bear your child without any shadows looming over her."

"If I take your offer, I don't deserve her," he answers.

"So be it," the voice replies.

"And you, William the Bloody? Is this what you have become? Truly, you were more terrifying as a poet than you are now. After everything you've done, everything you've experienced, your only ambition is to be the Slayer's lap dog. It's pitiful, really. Yet you too, could achieve so much with our help. Imagine what you could achieve with Wolfram and Hart. It would be the chance to be somebody of your own - not just the childe of the mad vampire, or the butt of the Slayer's jokes. Does that not tempt you at all?"

"What?" Spike answers, his voice incredulous. "That the best you can offer me? The chance to follow in Angel's shoes again? Do you have any idea how old that is?"

"Yet your mind is full of countless times when you were made to feel worthless. Surely one such as you would yearn to have power? To be able to grind those who belittled you under your heel?"

"I'm not saying there aren't those I'd like to cock a snook at, but, compared to what I've got now? Really not worth it."

He catches my eye as he says that, and I smile back at him, hoping that the smile confirms that he's got me, because I know that's what he means.

"Very well, if you're all determined to be destroyed, I suppose we'd better get on with it."

"What d'you say we change the rules here, boys?" Spike says, starting to kick the wall between our two rooms in an attempt to break the barrier. "They want us separate? I'd prefer we're all together."

Angel and Wes respond, using fists and knives to try to break down the walls, and I join the effort. However, after several minutes and no discernible damage, we come to the conclusion that that's not going to work.

"I've heard a lot about the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart. But I'd never figured they'd be cowards," I shout in an attempt to gain their attention.

There's no immediate response, but a short while later, I start to feel something, whispering at my mind. I can't picture anything, it's not that clear, but it's a feeling that makes me shiver despite feeling anything but cold. A glance at Spike suggests he's getting the same as me, but he's actually sweating.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"They're playing with our minds. Trying their tricks." Then in a louder voice he continues. "They're afraid to face us, Pet. Using their mind tricks, trying to send us mad. It's not going to work."

The sensation goes then, but I know they're not finished yet. I glance at Wes and he looks at me encouragingly. Angel's just looking angry.

Something changes then. The wall between Angel and me seems to flash or something, but when I look again, nothing's changed. Except that suddenly, there's a crossbow bolt coming from nowhere straight to Angel's heart. He explodes into a cloud of dust which has me scurrying to the wall that separates us.

"One down," the disembodied voice says, and I turn away, checking that Spike's ok. It looks like he saw what I did, and the look of shock is clear on his face. "Anyone ready to change sides?"

"Still scared to show yourselves," Spike says. "I expected better."

"Watch and learn," the voice replies, and there's a similar flash from the wall that separates me from Wesley, and I turn in time to see Lilah in the room with him. I gasp, horrified at the implications. If Lilah's been here all this time, then Gina's lost. Wesley makes the same connection, and approaches her with something like madness in his eyes. He hits her, and she laughs before drawing a knife from somewhere, and brandishing it towards him. Maddened by grief, he runs at her anyway, and then seems shocked as the knife is thrust into him, and twisted. He falls to the ground his face contorted with pain, and the blood pools around him.

"Wes," I call, rushing towards him, but I know there's nothing I can do. He's dying, losing blood so fast he can't last for long.

"Wes, I'll get them. I promise, I'll destroy them. For you and Gina, and Angel."

There are tears forming in my eyes, but I blink them away. I don't have time to think about Angel or Wes, not right now. When I turn around again, the wall separating me from Angel has gone dark again, as if to shroud his ashes in dignity or something, but I can't think about that now. I return to the wall through which Spike is looking as shocked as I feel.

"Spike," I say. "How?"

"I don't know. I … There's something, but … Where did Wes' sword go?"

As we're talking, the wall between us shimmers, and then there's something behind Spike. It's a demon, huge, scaly, its mouth big enough to swallow a man whole, and it's approaching Spike with awful intent. And then I spot that Spike's sword has gone too. Disappeared, just like Wes'. I start to kick at the wall between us, desperately trying to get through to help him, but the wall just won't give. Not at all.

"Spike!" I scream, but he's not paying any attention, desperately trying to move away from the demon, but there's nowhere to run to. He's fast, but speed doesn't count for anything when there's nowhere to go, and I know it's only a matter of time before the end.

I turn from the scene, and yell at our unseen captors instead.

"What do you want? Come here, let me see you, you cowards."

And then, he's there. He looks like a deer, a hart, I assume, but the face isn't the sort of thing you usually see on such an animal. There's nothing benign or harmless about that face. It's evil, so evil that the expression alone is almost more than I can bear to look at.

And then it dawns on me. There's something different now, because I've still got my sword. I run a hand over my clothing, and my other weapons are still where I left them. So why, if the others had their weapons taken from them, have I been left with mine?

"Well, you wanted to see us. I doubt you'll get the chance to see the others since I fully intend to kill you, but I can't offer you anything better."

"So, why did you draw the short straw? Why you and not one of the others? Why not all three?"

"Why send three to do what one can do alone?"

I hear a scream then, bloodcurdling, and I glance at the wall that had separated me from Spike, but it's black. I can only assume that Spike has also been killed, and I'm filled with a rage like I've never known before. Part of me wants to fall to my knees and scream out my pain, but the rest of me knows I'll have the rest of my life to mourn him. Now it's time for revenge.

I rush at the creature in front of me, my sword in my hand, determined not just to kill him, but to destroy him totally. I swing the sword, bringing it down towards his neck, but he's moved, rearing on hind legs, and changing, melting into a man who looks achingly familiar.

"Would it be easier if I looked like this?" he asks. And Wes' face is there in front of me, looking at me, and I stop, frozen in place. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear Spike's voice again, telling me that they're playing with my mind, and I shake my head.

"I'd rather you showed me your own face, so I can remember the face of evil, but it really doesn't make any difference to me."

I swing my sword again, but again the body in front of me changes, becoming my mother. This time I don't hesitate, but carry on with my attack, only to have the creature, with agility completely beyond any human, jump out of the way, pulling out a sword of its own.

"Ah, even this image won't make you pause," my mother's voice says. "Maybe this one."

And it shimmers and becomes Spike. I fist away the tears that are forming in my eyes, fury building even higher in me.

"Look like yourself. You don't deserve to wear their faces. You don't have that right."

I lunge again, determined to be rid of the travesty in front of me, but it changes again, turning into a man of six feet with black hair and dark eyes - a typical Carnolan, except for the expression on his face which is like that of the hart I first saw - filled with hatred.

I heave a sigh of relief. Killing that - no problem at all. And so we start to fight - really fight. And for the first time, I see a lack of confidence on his face. He's still sneering, and I know it's not going to be easy, but, for the first time I realise that it's just another demon. I've done this so many times before, fighting, desperate to stay alive.

"I've got to wonder why you're still trying," he says, picking himself up off the floor after a particularly athletic tumble. "I mean, all your friends are dead. Angel, staked. Poor Wesley, killed by the woman he failed to save, and Spike, destroyed by a hunger greater even than his. And when you're gone, what's left to protect the others? It would have been so much easier if you'd just done as we asked and destroyed the rest of Carnolan. Not so difficult, with the resources of all those Slayers you have these days. But now, you're going to die, and then so will they. All of them. The shedding of your blood in this place will ensure enough power for us to be able to destroy all of them, all the Carnolan, and every Slayer who exists anywhere. And with all of them gone, there will be no more."

Listening to him, but at the same time planning my next move, I wonder about what he's saying. Does he really think I'll just give up because they've destroyed Angel, Wes and Spike? Do they think I'm just going to lie down and die?

I lunge again, taking him by surprise, and this time, I manage to draw blood.

"Maybe it's your blood that's going to be shed. Ever think of that? If you think I've got nothing to live for, then you're wrong. Because, right now, the only thing I have left is wanting to destroy you."


	38. Chapter 38 Nothing Left to Fight For

Chapter 38 - Nothing Left to Fight For

It's almost the last thing I expect. The demon in front of me laughs. He laughs, chillingly, almost hysterically, but I can't see what could possibly be the cause.

"Silly, silly little girl. You're not going to destroy me. You couldn't possibly. You can fight, maybe even hurt me, I grant you that. But I can heal myself instantly."

As if to prove the point, the gash I managed to make down his arm heals along its length, almost like an invisible zipper is pulled.

"See? It's nothing. You're nothing. Once, you were the Chosen One. But not for long. Within a few months you were just one of two, and now? You're one of thousands. There's nothing special about you, nothing unique, so how could you possibly be a threat to me?"

"Don't really care about the how," I counter. "All this talking is just giving me another reason to kill you, because I suspect it'll be the only way I can shut you up!"

With that I lunge again, but now, he seems to be living up to his name. He moves impossibly fast, and every time I launch an attack, it's late. He doesn't even appear to be trying to fight back; maybe if he did, I'd get a better handle on actually hitting him.

"I thought this was a fight, you know, to the death? Because so far, you haven't made any attempt to kill me."

"I hardly have to," he sneers. "You're not presenting any threat to me, so why should I bother?"

"Maybe because you'll get me out of your hair? How's that? Maybe I can be even more irritating than you can with the non-stop talking. It's funny," I say, making another lunge in his direction. "With everything you've got, you've got nothing."

"I'd hardly call being one of the three most powerful beings on the planet nothing," he retorts, and I feint to the left before trying another attack.

"I'd call it nothing. What have you got that matters? I've met a few Carnolans. Seems to me, they're not so much different from humans. They need others; they fall in love. It doesn't matter how much you've got if you don't have someone to share it with. I learned that the hard way. I thought I was so much better than Spike. I threw his love away, told him it was nothing, but when he was gone, I was lost. I managed to get the things I thought I wanted - normality, not having to save the world, no responsibilities beyond the normal ones, and my life was empty. But I've got something you'll never have."

"My dear girl, you talk a good talk, you really do. The fact remains that you have nothing left to fight for. You're angry, I can see that. But the longer I keep you at bay, the less the anger will be important. Because this love that you're extolling the virtues of makes you weak. When your brain finally comes to terms with the fact that your partner and friends are gone, you'll crumple, and I'll cut you down so easily it'll be laughable. I'll extinguish your life because I've already extinguished your spirit. And then, I'll let you bleed to death slowly, the power of your blood my ticket to supremacy within the three that are Wolfram and Hart."

Throughout, I keep trying to find a way in, a way to get through his defences, but he's tough. Or, more to the point, he's fast. And then it hits me. I can't get ahead of him because I'm relying on the bits of me that make me human. I'm relying on sight and hearing. What I need to do is reach down deep inside me to find the extra that comes with being a Slayer. I remember Giles trying to teach me that, way back, but I didn't completely understand. I got bits of it, but I never got completely there. I know it's possible, I just have to reach deep enough. I pull back, breathing deeply and concentrating on feeling it, on harnessing my instincts.

But the harder I try, the more elusive it feels. I feel this fog descending on me, making everything harder, and concentration all but impossible.

"It's coming, isn't it? The grief, the mind-numbing grief that'll sap you of the will to do anything other than curl in on yourself until you're so insignificant it'll be like tramping on a bug when I kill you. I'm going to relish that moment, keep the details in my mind and force those same details into the minds of anyone who cares for you. They'll see you, finally humbled and destroyed, and I will triumph."

He's talking and I can hear the words. But, I'm not conscious of getting any meaning from those words. I'm struggling to reach into myself and find what I need, but it's getting harder with every passing second. I mentally shake myself, giving up for now on trying to find something extra and launch another attack. This time, my attempt is laughable – so far off my aim I can hardly believe it. I remember Spike's lessons on how to kill a Slayer. And I finally see that he was right. It's not down to someone having a good day so much as the Slayer having a bad one. And today's got to count among the worst I've ever known. My Slayer instinct has deserted me; there's nothing left. He's watching me and I feel he's right. I feel so alone and it scares me, terrifies me as nothing ever has.

Back at the start, when that prophecy said that the Master would kill me, I was angry. Because, more than anything then, I wanted to live. I wanted it with everything I was, every fibre of my being. Now? He's right. There's nothing left, nothing to fight for. Death is starting to seem like a welcome alternative. Heaven. Memories of my time in heaven are shining in my mind like beacons trying to bring me home. If only I could be sure Spike would be there too, then I'd be gone.

And then I see him. In my mind, Spike's holding out his arms to me, welcoming me into heaven and I feel the tension leaving me, and the tears I had been holding back start to flow full and strong. He's right. This demon, this evil thing, is right. My time here is over. It's time to go back to heaven. Time to leave this world that'll be empty without Spike.

It's too much effort to stay upright. My knees buckle under me, and I crumple, jarring my knees on the floor as I land. I don't feel any pain, at least, not the physical pain. I see again the horror that was Angel turning to dust with a crossbow bolt through his heart. I see Wesley, bleeding to death, knowing that Gina was dead or worse. And I see Spike, in my mind's eye, being devoured, hear his scream again. There's nothing I can do. It's all perfectly clear now. There's nothing I can do.

I don't know how long I'm there, cowering on the floor, lost in my own misery, but my next external awareness is of the Hart standing over me, his sword in his hand.

"I could make this easy," he says, as if considering the possibilities. "But then again, the more Slayer blood is spilled, the more powerful I become. So, maybe we should make it a little slower."

I hear the words, but they don't make sense. I feel the pain of a slash across my wrist, and see the blood flowing from the wound. I'm mesmerised by it, watching it pool on the floor below me just like it did with Wesley. This is it, I'm checking out, leaving this life, drop by drop. And for once I'm sorry I'm a Slayer, with the strength and the enhanced healing because it'll take a lot of lost blood to kill me, so it's not going to be quick. I wish it could be.

They say your life flashes before you when you're dying, don't they? Well, I don't see my life, or at least, not all of it. Then again, maybe I see the important bits. I see Spike at his most glorious, saving the world, and feel again the truth of the words I tell him before I abandon him to his end.

And I see him returned to me, feel the joy of having him back, and remember the happiness of the short time we had together. And then we're back at today. Everything that happened from the time we walked through the portal progresses slowly through my head, every word, every detail.

"No sword," I mutter, getting to the point where Angel turned to dust. He had no sword. Neither did Wesley or Spike.

I can still feel my own sword in my hand, hard and real, and my eyes are drawn to the beauty of the workmanship. It's there. It's in my hand. This, with the Hart, is different to what happened to the others. I could defend myself. They couldn't. Why? Why?

_"They're playing with your mind." _

I hear Spike's voice replaying in my head. They're playing with my mind.

I know I'm weakening. I must've lost a lot of blood by now. There's something there, something important. I just need to find it. I need to find the strength to think, to not give up. Spike's voice, in my head, telling me to think.

"You're playing with my mind," I say, my voice clearer than I expect.

The Hart is standing over me, shaking his head.

"Naturally," he replies. "You resisted at first, but inevitably, you succumbed. It doesn't matter. You are history."

I close my eyes, and I hear him laugh again, convinced of his victory. And then I feel it, deep down, the Slayer instinct. If only I had the strength to tap it, to feel it throughout my being.

"_They're playing with your mind." _Spike's voice again. And then it makes sense. The reason there's only one of them here. There are another two, so why have I only seen the Hart? Why am I the only one to keep a weapon?

**It wasn't real**.

That means that they're not gone. Spike's not gone. Wes, Angel, …

And with that knowledge, I feel the strength returning to me. No, not physical strength, because that's ebbed away with my blood. No, it's something else, but it's real, and I think I can use it instead of purely physical strength.

Without opening my eyes, I pull myself to my feet. I sense that the Hart is surprised, but I also know that he's greedy enough to want my heart to keep beating a little longer, continuing to pump my blood over the floor. I reach deep into the well of Slayer within me, feeling for it, gathering it into a ball of energy within me, willing it to build until it's become an irresistible force.

"Slayer, you're too late," the Hart's voice hardly impinges on my consciousness. "You may be standing, but you're not really alive."

Almost unable to marshal the energy I feel inside, I launch it into an attack, my arm moving faster than it's ever moved before, slicing the Hart through the neck, all the way, and I hear his head landing on the floor with a thud, immediately followed by the clatter of my sword which has slipped from my hand.

The energy dissipated, I crumple again. Lying there, my only view is that of a severed head, the expression on his face one of total surprise.

It's a pity it all seems a bit late for me. And then, I close my eyes because I really don't want to look at that face. I want to see Spike, and as soon as my eyes are closed, he's there, smiling that gentle smile he saves just for me. It's a smile that radiates such love that it warms me all over. And then, he starts to fade, as if someone is turning down the light, it's getting darker, and darker.

"Stay with me, Spike," I manage to say, and the last thing I see is his nod of agreement before the blackness becomes total.


	39. Chapter 39 A Visit from an Old Friend

**Chapter 39 – A Visit from an Old Friend**

The darkness fades as soon as it falls. I open my eyes warily, and I'm almost blinded by sunlight. Heaven?

I open my eyes further, looking around. Sand. Blue sky. Blazing sun. Mountains in the distance. The desert? My memories of heaven might be a bit vague, but I'm sure a desert didn't figure anywhere in it. Then, again, neither did the discomfort of sand in my hair and inside my shirt.

I sit up carefully, noting the slash on my wrist which seems to have stopped bleeding. So, apparently, I'm not dead. I'm also not in the Senior Partners' dimension, which leaves me without ideas.

She appears out of nowhere – the First Slayer – crouching over me, beckoning me to follow her. A dream then? I didn't know you dreamt when you were dying.

I get up carefully, and follow her to a fire on the other side of an outcropping of rock. She motions to me to sit and I do. She sits opposite me, and directs me to stare into the flames.

"You are not finished yet."

The words don't seem to come from her, but I don't see anyone else around. And then I do. Tara's face appears in the flames.

"Tara? How? Why?"

"The powers allowed me to be your guide."

"My guide? To what?"

"To what you need to do. You can go back, Buffy. If you want to enough. The others – they need you. You understand now, they don't. Do you have enough love in you to go back?"

I think about the people who're depending on me. Never mind the countless strangers, there's Wes and Gina, Willow, Dawn, Xander – wherever he is, and there's Spike. For his sake alone I've got enough love if that's all it takes.

"How? I've lost blood before - I know I'm in bad shape."

"The ritual the Hart was going to use - it's primed to use the power of your spilt blood. You can use it to keep yourself alive long enough to make a difference."

"Tell me what to do." It sounds like I'm still not going to make it, and I'm saddened by that fact, but if the others survive, if Wes and Gina survive to bring up their child, if Spike gets a chance to live a full, human life? Then I'll do whatever I can. Because that's who I am. I'm the Slayer, and it's my job to keep others safe, even if it means I don't make it.

"You need a circle that encompasses as much of your blood as you can manage, and you, of course. Make sure no other body is included, or the energy from your blood will be shared."

Sharing my energy with the Hart? Not something I want.

"That's it? I don't have to say anything?"

Tara smiles that quirky, one-sided smile she had. "You can say something if you'd like, but it's not necessary. I'll cover the words. I'm not so much with the physical these days, but words I can do."

"Are you really her? Tara? Or just a projection the Powers thought would be acceptable to me?"

She shrugs. "I feel real, you know? I feel like me."

"And you're happy?"

"Yes. I can understand why going back was so terrible for you. I think, maybe, they let me do this to make up for my part in bringing you back."

"It's ok, Tara. Then? I wasn't so happy about things. Now, I'm glad I got the chance to live a bit longer. She still misses you," I add. "We all do, but Willow? She misses you so much."

"I know," she replies, smiling gently. "Tell her, … tell her to live while she's got the chance."

Her face fades, and once that's gone, the fire fades too. The air turns cool, and the sun seems to go out.

And then I know exactly where I am. I'm on the floor of the room where I fought the Hart. I lie there for a moment, marshalling my strength, no longer sure that I'm up to what I've got to do.

I manage to sit up, despite the waves of giddiness that threaten to overwhelm my effort. I notice that my wrist is still bleeding or bleeding again depending on how real my dream was. My shirt has been slit on the other sleeve and I have no memory of when it happened, but I take advantage of it, ripping it the rest of the way, and removing most of it. Then, I use it to bandage my wrist as tightly as I dare.

Once that's done, the dizziness seems to have receded a bit, so I try to get to my feet. That idea seems doomed to failure, so I reconsider. I can shuffle on my knees well enough, and use my hands to keep my balance when it gets too much. Now, how to draw the circle? I look around, and spot a bulging pocket in the Hart's shirt. With a certain trepidation, I approach. If he was going to do this ritual, stands to reason he'd be prepared.

I prod the pocket, and it gives, grittily, so I put a hand in and remove a bag filled with sand. It looks like the stuff Willow uses for the same purpose, so I grab it, tearing open a corner with my teeth.

I take a good look around, noting where the Hart's body is, and trying to work out the best place to inscribe the circle. Of course, some of the blood is his too, and there's no way to tell it apart from mine, so I've got to assume it doesn't matter. I choose a path, and start to pour the sand, stopping every couple of feet to steady myself before continuing. My hand's shaking so badly, it seems impossible that I'll be able to manage anything approximating to a circle, but I know enough of what Willow's taught me over the years to know that the critical thing is that it's sealed. The more perfect the circle, the stronger the barrier, but it's the completeness that's the key.

Two feet to go, and the waves of blackness are worse than ever. I feel so cold, like I'm freezing to death, and my fingers don't want to do what's needed. I conjure up Spike's face in my mind, that grin he has, so full of life, and with a final effort, I close the circle.

I collapse again, spent by the effort, and the floor starts to tremble.

The trembling in the floor becomes a throbbing, and I feel the power coming back to me. I'm breathing heavily, just trying to keep up with what's happening. I think I even lose consciousness a time or two, but when the throbbing stops, I find I can stand easily. Now, the only problem is how do I help the others?

I take a look around, intrigued to note that I seem to be glowing. I push that fact out of my mind for now, and take in my surroundings. I'm in a large room which is luxuriously decorated. I had no sensation of movement, so I'm not sure how it happened, but that really doesn't matter.

The room appears to be an office in a very rich and probably not terribly practical style. After a quick glance around, I move towards the door, opening it cautiously, but there's no one in sight, so I move out into the hallway.

It looks like part of a mansion. There are doors placed at regular intervals along the corridor, and I force myself to think about where the others might be. I can hear no sounds to imply that any of the rooms are occupied, so I try the door nearest me. I find another office in a rather different style, but still no clue about the whereabouts of the others. I continue along the corridor, but all I find are bedrooms and another office.

I reach a staircase then, and go downstairs quietly. Imagine the sort of staircase from which you can make a grand entrance. And then imagine it even more impressive. Well, that's what it's like. There are two identical flights of stairs coming from opposite ends of the hallway above to meet in a landing in the middle before branching off again. From my point of view, the openness this provides is a good thing, since I can see there's no one in sight.

There are more doors on the lower floor, and again, there's no sound from any of them, so I open them. This time, I find some formal sitting rooms, libraries, dining rooms, and a ballroom. Still no one around, though, and I start to feel like I've found my way into a game of Clue.

I've pretty much exhausted the floor I'm on, but I find another staircase leading down. This is much less grand than the first, and, as a result, much more dangerous. I creep down carefully, all my senses extended. I feel a strange tickling sensation, not my demon sense, but something else that I don't remember feeling before. It's sort of an emotional push, but I ignore it for now, concentrating on what I do understand, and get to the bottom of the stairs, to find more doors, but they're still of no use to me, as they seem to lead to just a kitchen, a laundry room and some storerooms.

I creep further, and come to another door at the end of the corridor. I open it without difficulty, and find myself faced with another stairway going down into darkness.

Again, I creep down, alert and watching, but I see no one. There are several more doors here, and I try the first of them, which opens easily.

Inside this small room, which looks remarkably like a dungeon with stone walls and a dank, musty smell, is Wes, chained to a wall and looking like he's been there for a while. I approach, and he watches me warily, as if he doesn't trust me.

"Wes? You ok? What've they done to you?"

"You're dead. You're not going to fool me, you know. Not sure what you want from me anyway."

"Wes, it's me, Buffy. I'm real, honestly. I'm going to break the chains, and you can tell me what's happened to you."

He laughs at that, an almost hysterical sound devoid of joy.

"You made a mistake, you know. Buffy doesn't glow."

I approach anyway, and manage to break the chains holding him.

"I only glow because of a spell I did. Don't worry about it." I cast an eye over his appearance. If he's been here as long as his appearance suggests, there's something wrong with the way I've perceived time.

"What happened? How are you? Can I do anything for you?" I ask, touching his cheek in an attempt to make him know I'm real.

He seems to have to think about that for a moment, but then nods. "I'm ok, I think. Are you really her? I saw Buffy die."

"They showed me you dying too, but you look real enough to me. They can put things into your mind, make you feel despair, and they showed us the things they thought would make us more susceptible."

"You mean, … Gina's ok? I saw Lilah, and she told me Gina was dead."

"I can't promise, Wes," I tell him, a hand on his shoulder. "But I don't believe she's come to any harm while we've been here. I don't think Lilah's really here either, since I saw her killing you."

He takes a deep breath at that, letting it out slowly.

"So what happened after you saw the show? Did they just put you down here?"

"Yes. Seems like a long time ago, but if they can affect my mind, then maybe it's not been that long. Just left me stewing down here, softening me up, I expect."

"Do you have any idea where the others are?"

"Spike and Angel? No, I thought they were gone too."

"You ok to come with me?"

He gets to his feet, and seems surprised at how ok he is.

"Yeah. It seems that physically, I'm fine."

I tell him about the rest of the house as we move out to the corridor again.

"So you were upstairs, but you found me down here?" he asks. "And you've only seen the Hart."

"That's right. I haven't seen hair nor fleece of the other two. Or anyone else, for that matter."

The next door opens to show another dungeon, but this time there's no one there. What there is, though, is chilling. It's a short, leather jacket that I recognise as being the one Angel was wearing.

We turn to leave the room, and then hear something for the first time. It's the sound of a voice, and it's coming from a room at the far end of the corridor. We approach quickly, and then listen carefully. I recognise enough of what I hear to guess what's happening. It sounds like another Carnolan, although which is hard to tell, and he's getting ready to fight.

Motioning Wes to stay behind me, I lift one leg and kick the door down. The scene before me is almost exactly the one from my own fight with the Hart, although the Carnolan this time is clearly the Ram, and he's facing up to Angel.

"Angel!" I call. He looks beaten already. I try to approach, but find a barrier between him and me.

"Ah, I knew his impatience would get the better of the Hart in the end." The words are forced into my mind, but despite his stated assurance, he seems surprised. "Angel can't see you, Miss Summers. He won't be able to hear you either. You get to watch while I destroy him, but you don't get to interfere. Your companion is irrelevant."

I glance at Wes, but by the look on his face, he hasn't heard.

"Did you get that?" I ask.

When he looks blankly at me, I add, "Did you just hear the Ram in your mind?"

"I didn't hear anything," he confirms. "What did you hear?"

"Just that we're going to have to stay here and watch. He seemed surprised to see me, though."

"He looks like Clinton, doesn't he?"

"They all look alike, it's one of their traits."

"So how do you know it's the Ram? Did he tell you?"

Angel and the Ram are still circling one another, each looking for the ideal position to attack. I think about Wes' question.

"I'm not sure how I know, I just do. It's like I can see two different things when I look at him - a Carnolan with overtones of Ram. It's hard to explain."

"But how do you do that?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me about this spell you did – the one that's making you glow."

Eyes glued to the two who seem to have tested one another enough to get into the fight, I explain the ritual in as few words as I can.

"But there was Carnolan blood in the circle?"

"It looks just like mine, so it's hard to tell."

"I'm not getting anything that suggests 'Ram', but you are. It could be something to do with the blood, I suppose. Is that why I didn't hear him too?"

"I think you not hearing him was intentional. You haven't had any problem understanding Clinton, have you? I don't know about the rest."

"That's true. So, he decided not to talk to me. That sort of makes sense given the history we know - this particular group of Carnolans consider humans to be beneath them. I assume that you, Spike and Angel merit something more."

"Could be. And I fought the Hart, and Angel's in there with the Ram. That implies that Spike's going to have to fight the Wolf."

"Could be he's already there," Wes suggests, so we both leave the room, and move to check the other rooms close by.

Wes shouts a couple of moments later, and sure enough, there's another identical room, and this time Spike's there with the Wolf. This pair aren't circling, but already fighting furiously. To my surprise, I can feel Spike's emotions quite clearly. He's hurting so badly I desperately want to comfort him. I try to draw back from the feeling because it's threatening to overwhelm me, and when I do, I realise that if I switch my attention away from Spike, I can feel Angel too. He's also in pain, but with him, it's a slow boil, almost just another pain to add to many others.

"I can feel them," I tell Wes. "I can feel that they're both hurting. They're so different, but the pain's real for both of them."

"I assume they still believe we're both dead."

"Yeah. If only we could take that away from them, it'd give them a chance to succeed."

I can't tear my eyes off Spike, he's trying so hard, putting everything he's got into the fight, but I can see the changes as they happen. His reaction time's gone way up, and his aim is off. It seems so like what I experienced, and I remember hearing Spike's voice in my head telling me it's not real. Without realising it, I'm screaming at him, yelling for all I'm worth that I'm alive and to ignore the other feelings that're being forced on him.

"Angel's weakening," Wes calls to me. I hadn't even realised he'd gone, I was so involved in watching Spike. "We've got to do something."

"I know, Wes, but what? I just want to tell them we're here and watching them."

I scream the words again, but this time, I get a faint echo back. It's Spike, and the thought was my name, but said as a question.

I yell again, desperate to try to recreate the effect. This time, the response is clearer, and along with it is something else, something that's telling him to ignore my voice telling him that it's just a figment of his imagination. I try harder, this time just trying to project the thought.

"I'm getting through to him," I tell Wes. "I'm getting through to Spike. Can Angel hold on for a minute and I'll try to get to him too?"

"I don't know, Buffy. He's really slowed down in the last minute or so - it's as if everything's too much effort."

"Ok, I'll try to get to both of them," I offer.

And I do. I concentrate on the thought that Wes and I are alive and watching them, and I push it as hard as I can. Spike seems to be wavering, desperately wanting to believe me, and I can feel him trying to throw off the other influence.

"It's helping Spike, any sign of it helping Angel?" I ask.

"Not yet," Wes replies. "But if you don't get through to him fast, he's not going to make it. The Ram's got a stake, and he's already been too close to the mark a couple of times."

I redouble my efforts then. I can feel Spike's growing confidence, and I can see the effect that's having on the Wolf. His confidence is falling as Spike's increases, and the whole flow of the fight has reversed. I change tactics a bit then, concentrating on giving Angel the message.

It's so different trying to get through to him compared to Spike. It's like there's a closed door in his mind, and I feel like I'm battering at it to get in. I keep hearing a litany, words repeated again and again, telling him he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve anything, he doesn't deserve happiness. It's almost heartbreaking to hear it, but I ignore that and just keep pushing.

The fight between Spike and the Wolf has changed completely now. Spike's injured, but his injuries are minor compared to those sported by the Wolf. He doesn't even seem to have enough energy left to heal himself, and he's so slow, I almost feel like Spike's playing with him. And then, he isn't. In a move that takes even me by surprise, Spike's sword slices through the Wolf's neck, and I hear the head hitting the floor, and then the whole room seems to wink out of existence, leaving behind a small storeroom.

Eager to see what's happening with Angel, I run to join Wes, while still keeping up my mental pushing at Angel's mind. It's not any easier than it was, and when I reach Wes, it's obvious that my efforts aren't doing any good.

"The Wolf's gone," I tell him, then turn my attention back to Angel.

I desperately want to know what's happened to Spike, but I know that Angel needs me too, so I stay, watching, and trying even harder to get through the walls he's built in his mind. I've no idea why I can do what I'm doing, but it's a fascinating thing that I wish I could understand more. Right now though, there's only time to concentrate on getting the fact that I'm alive into Angel's brain. Once that's there, maybe he can fight the other thoughts, but grief seems to open his mind to the predations of the Ram.

One obvious thing I see is that the Ram is also struggling. If I'm not getting through to Angel, then maybe I'm making things difficult for the Ram, so my attempt isn't wasted. With one last push at Angel, I change direction, searching for the Ram's mind instead. I find it fairly easily, at least, I find the outer, almost public parts easily. Trying to dig deeper proves difficult, but difficult's never deterred me before. I push, and gradually, I find a crack which I open further. I hadn't really thought in advance about what I was going to do if I got into his mind, but once I'm there, it's obvious. I just tell him that he's not going to win, and that his two friends are dead. I keep pushing it, and the fight between the Ram and Angel turns again, becoming more equal. The fact that they're both doing badly is beside the point.

Then, Angel lands a blow, seriously cutting the Ram's throat with his sword, but not severing his head. Blood's pouring from the wound, but then everything changes. The room flickers, and becomes another storeroom like Spike's did once he'd killed the Wolf. Except, this time, the Ram isn't dead, and he lunges again at Angel who seems confused by the changes. There's a stake in the Ram's hand, and I don't see how it can miss. Instinctively, I jump towards them, forgetting about the barrier, but it's gone, so I'm close to Angel, actually level with the Ram, and my eyes are on that stake, determined to make sure it doesn't hit its target.

I realise that I'm going to be too late, but I continue my dive towards it, desperate to try. To my amazement, the stake doesn't make contact with Angel's heart. When I glance over my shoulder to work out why, I see the headless body of the Ram dropping to the floor and Wes standing there with the sword I hadn't even realised I'd dropped in his hand.


	40. Chapter 40 Cheating Again

Chapter 40 – Cheating Again

I hit the floor hard. I've no idea how I managed to fall, so it comes as a surprise, and then I understand. I'm on a stone floor in the cavern where Willow opened the portal. I feel a sharp pain from my wrist, and I glance toward it. It doesn't seem to be bleeding noticeably, but I do spot that I'm no longer glowing.

The floor starts to shudder, and I try to prop myself up so I can see if everyone else is ok. I have to fight against the blackness that attempt causes, and I hear panicked voices all around me. Spike's, then Angel's voice, and I see the two of them hovering over me. And then, the effort to keep the blackness at bay is just too much.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, wishing I could say it more clearly, hoping Spike understands the multitude of things I'm sorry for, and then the darkness is complete.

Funny. I didn't expect to feel like this. I hurt. Not agonising pain, just a general dull ache, but it's all over, in every muscle, every bone. I suppose it's too much to expect to go to heaven again, I just sort of assumed it.

There're voices again, but they're different from the ones I heard last. Then, the voices were strident, loud, worried. Now, they're hushed, as if trying not to waken someone. Probably me. Well, I'm awake, so I try to pry my eyes open.

Rationally, I know the light is dim, but it still hurts my eyes, so I peer from between almost closed lids, looking for the source of the voices. And, of course, Spike's there. He's watching me, his face a study in concentration.

"Buffy? Love?"

I decide that talking would be too difficult, but I try to bend my mouth into a smile. I think it must have succeeded, because Spike's expression changes, becoming a grin, and I'm enfolded in a hug that makes breathing difficult. He seems to realise, because it's short, and he moves away again, still smiling, talking to someone else. I try to look in that direction, and I spot who else is there. Of course, she's hanging over me too now. Dawn. She leans down and kisses my brow the way Mom used to do when we were ill.

"You ok to stay a minute, Bit?" I hear Spike's voice. "It's just a certain witch'll have me turned into something to be trodden underfoot if I don't call her. And I'd better let a doctor know too."

"Sure, Spike," she answers.

I decide to make an effort to speak.

"Don't be long."

He leans back over me, and plants a kiss softly on my lips.

"Never going to be away from you for long."

Then he turns and walks out of the room.

"Where?" I ask Dawn.

"Hospital. Hospital full of very good looking, tall, dark and demony types."

"Carnolan?"

"Yeah. Turns out Willow had an agreement with Clinton. If anyone needed it, she just had to think 'Ambulance' and there'd be one on its way. I think they actually had it waiting just outside. Angel knew you were short of blood, you know, vampire senses. Willow passed on that information, and they were ready to transfuse you as soon as you were out of the building. And even that probably wouldn't have been enough, but they managed to use Willow as a conduit of some kind, putting you in a sort of stasis field. All sounds a bit Star-Trek-y to me, but that's what they said. Without it you wouldn't have made it long enough for a transfusion."

There're tears forming in her eyes as she says that last bit.

"How long?"

"Since the building collapsed? Ten days or so."

"Building collapsed?"

"Yeah, the Wolfram and Hart building. They managed to clear it, though. Sounds like the whole building started to shake while you were still off fighting, so there was time. You and the others in the basement were the last ones out, and you wouldn't have made it without Willow."

"Everyone else ok?"

"Yeah. You came off worst."

"Gina?" I'm almost afraid to ask, but I've got to know.

Spike comes back in time to hear my question. There's a doctor with him. I recognise him as the one who treated Spike, and I try to smile my thanks at him. "She's fine too. Called Wes not long after we got to the hospital. Seems she was freed as soon as they knew the Senior Partners were gone."

"If you can give me a few minutes?" the doctor says as he looks expectantly at the others.

With another kiss to my brow, Spike leaves with Dawn in tow, and the doctor does what doctors do. He checks me over, and asks me the inane questions that're supposed to show my brain is functioning normally.

"You seem remarkably recovered," he concludes. "To be honest, I thought this was one battle the Slayer was going to lose."

"Thanks," I tell him. "From what I heard, I would've lost if it hadn't been for everyone else."

"Well, I did say we'd help if we could, I just didn't think it'd be this soon. Not that we did very much this time. You were transfused, of course, and you needed CPR a time or two. Once you were breathing on your own, the only treatment was time and whatever your friend Miss Rosenberg's been doing. I still prescribe rest, though, young lady. Make sure you take this opportunity to rest."

"When can I go home?"

"Home? If I had my way, not for another week at least, but I don't expect you to follow my recommendation. Stay tonight, and we'll see how things look in the morning, how's that?"

"Ok," I agree, because right now, the prospect of getting out of bed is one I don't even want to think about.

He nods at me, then goes towards the door. No sooner has he opened it than Spike's in again, followed by Dawn. Spike sits down beside my bed and takes my hand in his.

"Expect they'll all be here soon," he comments.

"I'm going to get something to eat. Want anything?"

The question's directed at Spike, but I don't think he even hears Dawn. She just smiles at me and leaves us alone.

"Thought I'd lost you," he murmurs, kissing me again.

"Not going to happen," I reassure him even though I thought it had. Talking's getting easier, almost as if I'm getting back into practice. "Hear we brought another building down."

He laughs out loud at that. "Enjoyed it more the first time."

"Is everyone ok? Really ok?"

"Want a run down, do you? Well, Willow did some amazing mojo that kept the Wolfram and Hart building from falling on our heads. That was after she gave the Carnolans Angel's news that you'd been bled dry, and after she channelled some spell to stop you dying in the meantime. She was pretty exhausted when we got out, even spent a couple of days in here with Clinton hovering at her bedside. Fred just had some scratches, Wes much the same, and once Gina was safe, I don't think he even knew that much. I was a bit sore, but I heal pretty fast. Angel … He's physically fine, all healed. Not sure about him otherwise. If he was broody before, he's gone into overdrive now – can't get a bloody word out of him."

"Where is he?"

"Holed up in some basement apartment. Right dive it is too. Part of his atonement, I think. Fred's been phoning him about your condition, but he's kept away."

"Any repercussions?"

"You mean minions wanting to take over? Not so's you'd notice. Haven't been paying too much attention, though, what with being scared to death you wouldn't wake up."

"Kind of surprising, that."

"What? Waking up?"

"Yeah. Tara sort of implied the spell would only work to save the rest of you."

"Tara? Buffy, you feeling ok?"

"Apart from the all over ache, I'm fine. I was dying, Spike. I've done it twice, I know what it feels like. But the First Slayer came, took me to talk to Tara. She told me what to do to get the benefit of my blood. Said she would say what needed to be said, I just had to inscribe the circle."

He seems to have to think about that, but he doesn't say anything.

"You and Dawn ok?" I ask.

"Yeah. Was a bit difficult at first, but our differences didn't seem too important compared with wanting you to wake up. And we've had plenty of time to chat. I think we're getting more comfortable with each other again."

"I'm glad."

I feel my eyes closing. I'm so tired, and sleep seems like the only option, but I want to know Spike's there with me.

"If I shuffle over a bit, can you lie down beside me?"

"Don't want to hurt you, Pet."

"You won't. I'm sleepy, and I want you to hold me while I sleep."

"Ok," he agrees. "But you're not shuffling anywhere."

He moves the sheet that's covering me, and gently lifts me over a few inches before kicking off his boots and balancing himself on his side at the edge of the bed. He strokes my hair gently, and the feel of his fingers is all I need to fall asleep.

I don't know how long I slept, but Spike's moved. He's sitting next to me, his head on the bed, and it looks like he's asleep.

"He couldn't sleep perched up there with you, kept almost falling off," Wes explains from his position near the door. "It took Gina a while to persuade him to move. Don't think he's slept more than a few minutes at a time since it happened."

"Gina? She's here?"

"Yeah. She needed to visit the ladies room. I think junior's sitting on her bladder again. Willow went with her. Don't know what it is about women, but they never want to go alone."

He's been approaching as he spoke, and he reaches the bed and leans over to hug me from the side opposite the one Spike's occupying.

"You had us all worried."

"So I hear. Of course, I didn't know anything about it, so you can't blame me."

"Well, actually, I blame myself. I know you said you'd used that ritual, but I didn't know how far gone you were. If I had …"

"You wouldn't have done anything differently, because there wasn't anything different you could have done. In fact, if you hadn't finished off the Ram, we might not have made it out of there at all. If he'd finished Angel and gone for me, I don't know I would've had the physical strength to take him."

Gina and Willow arrive then, chatting as they enter, only to have Wes remind them sternly about the sleeping Spike. They both look suitably contrite and move to beside Wes where they supplant him so they can both hug me. Gina's bump seems a lot bigger than it was, and I comment on it.

"I blame days of inactivity and too much to eat," she says, shrugging. "But the doctor says it's normal, so I'm not going to worry any more."

"Was it awful?" I ask, guilt welling up.

"I never felt threatened, if that's what you mean. I was comfortable, and there was a doctor with me the whole time so I was looked after. I was scared for the rest of you, though. And angry that I couldn't help."

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "It's my fault you were involved."

"No, actually, it's not. I knew what Wes did when I married him. I'm not happy about the fact that he's in a risky occupation, and if I could I'd persuade him to take up teaching or being a librarian or something, but if he did, he wouldn't be the man I love. He knows someone's got to do what he does, and he's got the skills that make him an ideal candidate."

"Given the experiences of teachers and librarians where we went to school, I'd say they're over-rated as safe professions anyway," Willow interposes.

"True," Gina admits.

I feel Spike stirring on my other side, so I turn my attention to him.

"Sorry," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. "Almost fell asleep there."

I smile at him. "From what I heard you need some sleep. Why don't you go home? I'll be fine here tonight, and the doctor said I can go home in the morning."

He shakes his head. "Not going to happen, Pet. I'll just stay here until I can take you home. You sure about tomorrow, though?"

"The doctor says I just need rest. I can get that at home, can't I?"

"I suppose," he admits.

"Well, if you're getting home tomorrow, then I'm off to get everything ready," Willow announces. "Lucy went home, but given the Carnolan grapevine, she's bound to know you're awake. Dawn went back to the apartment while you were asleep – she was exhausted. I'll go to the market, make sure you've got enough of everything and get the place tidied up. Neither of us has been spending much time there. Clinton's been around a lot too."

"But that's so he can see you," Gina adds, a grin on her face.

"Maybe," Willow agrees, smiling shyly.

"You're interested?"

"I really like him, but I'm going to have to talk to Kennedy. I owe her that much at least. I'll be going back to Cleveland for a bit, see how things seem. Clinton's sort of needed around here, but apart from Kennedy, there's not much that's holding me in Cleveland."

"It'll be good to have you around," I tell her. "But you've got to move because it's the right thing for you."

"I know," she says. "I'm not going to jump into anything, you know. "

"Tara wouldn't mind, you know that?"

"Tara? I never felt she'd mind about Kennedy somehow. A man, though? That just seems more betray-ey, you know?"

"She told me what to do. When I was there, in the other dimension. That ritual I did? She told me what to do. She said the Powers gave her the chance because of her part in bringing me back last time. She knows you miss her, but she told me to tell you to live while you've got the chance. She's in a good place, and she's waiting for you there, but I don't think she'll mind what else you do as long as she knows you're happy."

Willow's eyes fill as I speak, but she's happy-teary I think. She sniffs, nods and runs.

"Tara said that?" Spike asks. "Sounds like her."

I yawn then, and Wes looks at Gina who nods back.

"Look, we're going to go and let you sleep," Gina announces.

"I'll be back in the morning to take you home," Wes offers. "Just call when you're ready."

"Thanks, Wes," I say, as he leans down to kiss my cheek. "You look after Gina now. I think she deserves some spoiling."

"He's already doing that," Gina comments, hugging me. "You get the rest you need, and I'll see you soon."

Once they've gone, I take another look at Spike. He certainly looks as though he needs to sleep, and I wipe a stray strand of hair off his face.

"I think I'm going to sleep again. You stay there if you're more comfortable."

"Ok, Pet. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Always, I hope," I tell him.

"Always, Pet."


	41. Chapter 41 Epilogue

Chapter 41 – Epilogue

She's beautiful. I'm always amazed at how beautiful she is, but I can never understand why I'd be surprised. I mean, neither of her parents are exactly slouches in the looks department. She's six months old, and she's sitting in her chair watching my every move with her huge, liquid, brown eyes. Not that I'm doing that much, just warming her lunch and listening to the radio. Emily Maria, named after her two grandmothers, seems to find me watching her amusing. No, I realise, it's not me she's laughing at, it's Spike. He's playing peek-a-boo round the door with her, and I hadn't even heard him coming in.

"How's she doing?" he asks once he knows I know he's there.

"As you can see, she's fine."

"Seems funny having a baby around."

"Well, yeah, I suppose. I did think for a while that she'd be in high school before Wes and Gina finally agreed to go off for a weekend and leave her with us."

"Understandable, isn't it? Must be hard leaving her behind, even to celebrate your anniversary."

"I suppose," I agree. "So, what's up that Fred had to call you before lunchtime?"

"You know Fred. When she's working on something, she doesn't know if it's day or night. Turns out, she thinks she's got something that'll work against that Dranlak demon that's been causing problems up in Bakersfield."

"Oh good." I say the words, then realise it's not so good.

"You're not thinking about going after it on your own, are you?"

"Did consider it," he admits. "For about ten seconds, until I realised that if it didn't get me you would."

"Good," I repeat, trying to look at him sternly, but he's smiling and I can't keep it up.

"We can go tomorrow, straight after Wes and Gina've collected Emily."

I feel the telltale tingle run up my spine at the prospect of a good fight. "You can tell me all about what Fred's got planned later when Emily's asleep."

I suppose the life we have wouldn't suit everyone. There was a time I wasn't sure it would suit me, but then I'm sometimes wrong. I'm back counselling, but only part time. I work afternoons at that, and Sarah Carlisle, who took over from me while I sorted out the Senior Partners, decided to stay on after I got back. I think we actually complement each other well. I specialise in the demon-induced trauma, and while she'll cover that, she prefers the more 'mundane' stuff. Evenings, I join Spike, and sometimes Wes. Wes' business became a joint venture between him and Spike. Wes runs the business and research side of things, but Spike's been surprisingly into the research too once he got over trying to play the Big Bad. The business is doing well so far, and it gives me the chance to finally do what Anya suggested years ago, and make some money out of helping people. Of course, we don't insist on cash up front or anything like that, and sometimes, for individuals, we don't charge at all. There're enough businesses around that are keen to get rid of vampires or whatever, and they normally pay up gratefully.

So, counselling in the afternoons and Slaying at night. What about mornings?

Well, mornings are ours. Spike's and mine. That's why it's so surprising that Fred'd call. The only reason I've been up for hours already is Emily who, thanks to Gina, keeps more normal hours than we usually do.

Fred and Gunn went into business together too. It turns out, when Wolfram and Hart finally collapsed, that she was still able to access her substantial research budget. She's got some ideas that're going to make big money in a few years, and in the meantime, she does jobs for us at less than her usual rates. Gunn looks after the business side of things, drumming up customers and so on and leaving Fred to do what she does best.

Willow's in LA now, and taking the first tentative steps with Clinton. It took her a while to make the final break with Kennedy, but they seem to have parted, well, not exactly friends, but reasonably amicably.

The only problem is Angel. He went into a major decline after we got out of the basement. From what I heard, he was instrumental in saving my life, but he doesn't see it that way. On top of all the guilt he was carrying anyway, he added a truckload about the way he let himself be led along by Wolfram and Hart, and he feels he let the rest of us down by not killing the Ram. Add to that the fact that the reward he was working towards – becoming human – seems to have been taken by Spike, and he's been pretty lost. Oddly, the only person he'd let near him for three months was Spike, and he used to say that the only reason Angel let him near was that he saw it as part of his punishment.

Then, out of the blue, came the news that Angel was willing to see Sarah professionally. The rest of us were relieved, and although Sarah wasn't too comfortable at first, she seems to be warming to him. However it's going, she's managed to get him to occasionally get out of the tomb of an apartment he's living in, and he's been taking cases from Wes when Spike's needed elsewhere. It's early days, but he seems to be getting back on track.

Spike and me? We're doing fine. I'm not saying it's been moonlight and roses, 'cos it hasn't. We're still two people who both expect to get our own way, but we're learning how to give and take in a way I once would've thought impossible. As far as we can tell, I'm in the clear as far as that agreement I had with the Senior Partners, but just because there's been no sign of anything yet, doesn't guarantee anything. Still, the longer nothing happens, the better I feel.

There's news on the Slayer line too. All those slayers who were made by what Willow did with the scythe, well, they're eventually going to die, and there was concern that there wouldn't be any more. It seems that's not going to happen. Girls are being born as Slayers. Not many, and according to the information Giles has collated, there've been maybe five a year born so far. Some have even been born to current Slayers which leads to the possibility that there's actually a mundane, genetic component to the whole thing.

I'm really very lucky. When I think back to when I was fifteen, and first knew about my destiny, it all seemed so short term. No one would have expected I'd live this long, let alone have things turn out the way they did. Despite Spike's comment about it being odd having a baby around, we've been talking about having one of our own. Now that Angel's taking a more active part in things, it's probably the right time. The only thing I could wish is that my mom was here to see me. She knew what I was and she knew I was in daily danger. She knew I had little hope of long term life let alone happiness, and I know that hurt her. It would hurt any mother. Yet, once she got used to the idea, she just supported me. It would be great if she could see me now. I know she'd be very happy. But then, if she's in the same place Tara is, she probably does know.

"You ok, Pet?" Spike asks, concern on his face.

I realise I'd fallen so far into my thoughts that my eyes are actually filling a bit. I wipe at them roughly then go back to stirring the puréed carrot in front of me.

"I'm fine, Spike. Just thinking about Mom. Wondering if she knows how happy I am."

"Don't know, Pet," Spike replies, putting his arms around my waist. "Reckon she might, though."

"Yeah, hope so."

Spike kisses me then, warm and soft but threatening harder and more demanding, but we're interrupted by a cry from behind us. We break apart guiltily to find Emily crying, tears running down her cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Spike asks, almost panicking as he rushes towards the child. Magically, Emily stops crying as soon as she's got our attention.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say she was jealous," I answer, looking at her suspiciously.

"What? Does that mean I'm not allowed to kiss you all weekend?"

"Looks that way," I answer. "Of course, after lunch, she'll have a nap, and then she won't be able to see what's happening."

"Nap, eh? Sounds like a good idea. You get her fed and off to sleep, and we can have a little lie down too."

"Sleepy, Spike?" I ask, smiling at his expression.

"Not yet, but you can take that as a challenge," he replies, waggling his eyebrows in a manner that Emily seems to find amusing.

"A challenge, eh? And what do I get if I succeed?"

"I'll think of something," he promises.

And you know what? I bet he does.

**The End ******

_Thanks so much for all the feedback - it's been very much appreciated. A special word of thanks to my beta, tgeyer who's been such a huge help throughout the story._


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